


State of Grace

by molmcmahon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Robb Stark is King in the North
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-02-07 07:21:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12836127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/molmcmahon/pseuds/molmcmahon
Summary: Harry has been in Westeros for a little over six months when he arrives at Castle Darry one evening and sees the ghost of a direwolf.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own either HP or GoT. They belong to JK Rowling and GRR Martin, respectively.
> 
>  
> 
> This is going to be Harry/Sansa. I'm super excited for this fic so I hope you guys enjoy the first chapter!

 

Harry glanced at the small town in front of him, the moon shining down on it. With the Vale behind him and the Trident to the south, he would enjoy a small stay in Castle Darry for at least a day. He knew his horse would enjoy one, as they had been on the kingsroad for several days. Harry urged his horse ahead, weaving around a wagon filled with supplies headed towards the capital and stopping at an inn. The only inn in the town but he wasn’t picky.

He stopped outside the town, within a few minutes walk of the local inn, and set up his tent within a clearing. When he had come to this world a year ago, he had spelled his tent to more reflect the level of technology the local people had. So the stove and the chimney vanished. So did the shower and the sink and everything else that was more modern. If he chose to return them, it would just take a flick of his wand and another spell.

He added a stall for a horse, which was easier said than done but he did. The stall had a few spells around it to keep the smells to a minimum but it allowed him to keep out of view of the locals. It allowed him to travel anywhere without needing a stable or needing a sturdy tree to tie a horse up. He also had a supply of horse feed, tack, water next to the stall.

He led his mare into the stall, made sure she was settled, and walked into the inn, ordering dinner and sitting down. Harry looked around the inn, noting the various other people in the inn. Some people who were in tables opposite him glanced at the sword strapped to his back, seeing the rubied hilt. He could see greed in their eyes and snorted.

He was pretty sure that he had cleaned the sword of its basilisk venom but he hadn’t been too hard on it. The innkeeper brought over dinner and Harry dug into the meat pie, enjoying the flavor of it.

He ate and listened to the gossip that flowed around the inn, the various talk of the war that was going now. There was King Robb Stark, King in the North. The Stark king was in Riverrun now though Harry had seen the ghosts that had come to him from the Westerlands. He figured that Robb’s armies were on the move, raiding the east coast. Harry would have loved to see Grey Wind up close; the direwolves did seem beautiful and awesome at the same time. But he had wanted to stay out of any battles, choosing instead to stay out of it.

There was King Joffrey Baratheon on the Iron Throne though Harry had heard the rumors. Joffrey wasn’t a Baratheon any more than Harry was a Malfoy. The ghosts that had appeared around him a few days ago said that self-proclaimed King Stannis was on the move to attack King’s Landing.

There was apparently also King Balon Greyjoy. Balon though… The north was being overrun with the ironborn. Someone in the inn was talking of the north, of how the ironborn had taken Torrhen’s Square and Deepwood Motte. Some whispered word of Moat Cailin, of how it was taken a few days ago. One man whispered that King Robb Stark should be called the King Who Lost the North.

Harry sighed, finished his dinner, and thanked the innkeeper and his wife, and stepped out. He glanced out at the street, at the keep that lay behind walls. He slowly meandered through the town, looking wistfully at a couple with their children as he passed them. He was about to go back to his horse and set up his tent when he heard a ghostly bark.

He glanced beyond the keep, to the north side of the street. There was a kennel somewhere in the keep but nowhere near where he had heard the bark. Harry raised an eyebrow, thinking his ears had betrayed him when he heard the same ghostly, eerie, but friendly bark again. He stopped, narrowed his eyes, and lightly curled his fingers around the elder wand in his pocket. The cloak was in his other pocket and the stone was in his pack. The three things had taken to following him around after he had come to Westeros.

With his fingers around the elder wand, he saw ghosts. One ghost in particular caught his eye. It was clearly a wolf, not a dog, but a wolf that was somewhat bigger than a normal wolf. A wolf that was lying down, ghostly blue coat blowing in the slight evening breeze. Harry’s eyes widened as he ambled over to the ghostly wolf’s side, kneeling down to take a look.

The wolf had a cut on its throat, likely the way it died. The wolf had yellow eyes, unlike every other ghost that Harry had seen. Maybe there was something… special about the wolf, letting it keep its color in the afterlife. But… The wolf whined low in its throat, nudging its nose into his hand. Harry grinned a little, stroked its ears.

“Hey, girl,” Harry spoke, looking again into its’ eyes.

The ghostly wolf whined again, sadly, and further nudged its head into his fingers.

Harry sighed. “I can’t… Well, maybe I can. Come on.”

He stood up and walked back through the town, the ghostly wolf at his heels. When he had first started to see ghosts, he had expected everyone else back in England to see them too. He hadn’t expected everyone to start thinking he was crazy, another second year, another ‘hearing voices’ thing. Then one night he had met Death. Death was a rather weird fellow, in that it didn’t have a gender nor an actual body, but it had explained everything.

It took him half an hour to make it back to his tent, conjuring a tree stump to sit on as the ghostly wolf sat on its’ haunches in front of him. He pulled out the elder wand from his pocket, the resurrection stone from another pocket and summoned the invisibility cloak from his belongings in the tent. The ghostly wolf yipped eagerly in front of him, its’ ears perked up and its’ tail wagging.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do,” Harry whispered, a little bemused. “But I’ll try something. You’re a direwolf, aren’t you?”

The ghost wolf blinked its’ yellow eyes, going quiet only to perch its’ head on his lap. He smiled, stroking the ghostly fur. It really didn’t feel like fur though, more like petting a cloud, an eerie cloud. Harry stared at it then placed his hand on its’ head, calling on the magic that allowed him to see ghosts, the magic that had apparently brought the hallows to him even in this world, then willed it to move into the ghostly direwolf.

Wild magic flowed around the clearing, the trees moved in the mysterious wind that started. Clouds moved under the moon, hiding the light for just a moment. His eyes fluttered closed as his magic called to the wild magic in the land beneath him, to the magic in the air. His heart sped up, feeling the land quiver a little. Something within the direwolf called out to something in the north, something that looked like wolf fur, something like a body.

 

* * *

 

 

In the Crag, Grey Wind began to howl, spooking the Westerlings as they bustled about their small castle. Lady Jeyne Westerling’s eyes widened as she nursed the King in the North, Robb Stark, taking care of the arrow wound in his shoulder. His direwolf was staring out the window, to the west, looking like it was awaiting something and began to howl, eager and joyful.

 

* * *

 

 

Beyond the Wall, as Bran Stark, Meera Reed, Jojen Reed and Hodor started off, Summer let loose a loud and apprehensive howl. Bran raised an eyebrow from where he was on Hodor’s back, exchanging a look with Meera and Jojen.

 

* * *

 

Nymeria, running with her new found wolf pack, howled to her pack mates, looking west. She remembered her other packmates, her other family, remembered the one that had gone. Her sister who had died early. Her sister who was not too far away now. Her sister who was alive.

 

* * *

 

 

Ghost blinked, stopped where he was loping in front of Jon, and turned around. He peered to Jon then south, to where his packmates were. To where the one that was lost was returning.

 

* * *

 

Shaggydog growled, making Osha and Rickon stop as they traveled east to the port city of White Harbor. The black direwolf threw up his head and howled, loud and wild.

 

* * *

 

Harry opened his eyes when he felt a tongue start to clean him, licking his face like it wanted to wake him up. “Alright, alright, I’m up.”

He laughed as he pushed the wolf away, his eyes widening as he saw the direwolf in front of him. The not-a-ghost anymore direwolf. The flesh and blood and fur direwolf. Harry peered into its- her- yellow eyes and poked her left front paw in experiment. The she-wolf nipped his shoulder in play, as if saying _you are not hallucinating_ . _You humans are so funny._

“What the hell.”

The she-wolf sat down on her haunches, threw up her head to the moon and howled, joined in by her packmates all around Westeros.

 

* * *

 

A few nights later, in King’s Landing, in the Red Keep, Sansa Stark had a wolf dream.


	2. Chapter 2

“Stannis is supposed to be getting closer,” Shae remarked, turning to look at Sansa.

Sansa dipped her head in a nod, letting Shae know she had heard the other woman. The city below them looked quiet, the gold cloaks getting ready for a siege. Lord Tyrion was handling the soldiers, making sure every nook and cranny of the walls was filled. Queen Cersei was nervous, taking Tommen with her every minute.

It had been months since her father had been executed on the orders of King Joffrey. The king, who at every opportunity harassed her and promised that he would hand her her brother’s head. She shivered and tugged her cloak further around her shoulders, even though it wasn’t cold.

“Renly’s dead and Stannis is pointing towards taking the capital. Sansa?”

“I hear you,” Sansa replied, finally turning around to look at her lady’s maid. “Stannis taking the capital would be a good thing, wouldn’t it?”

Shae sighed. “Mayhaps it would. Men do horrible things in war though. And the queen… We should be ready. I will see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Shae,” Sansa murmured.

Shae looked at her, her lips drawn into a frown. “I tried, my lady.”

“The Queen was going to find out that I have flowered somehow,” Sansa said, turning back around to look out of the window and down to the city below. She could see the alleyway where she had gotten cornered and almost… The Hound had saved her and then had gone to get drunk in the local tavern. “If Stannis does take the city, I won’t have to marry Joffrey and I could go back home. Maybe I’ll get to watch Stannis kill Joffrey.”

Sansa would never get the memories of guards being ripped apart by hungry people out of her mind. She had seen one of the women, Lollys Stokeworth, taken away and raped. She had seen the hungry looks of the smallfolk, the rage on some of the men’s faces.

“Do you need something for the women’s pain?” Shae questioned.

Sansa peered down at her stomach then shook her head. She was full of food from the last meal of the day but she did not feel any of the pain that women spoke of sometimes. The pain that came with flowering hadn’t found her yet. “No.”

Sansa then heard the door open and close, leaving her alone. Alone. Just how she had been since Arya had fled and her father had been murdered. Alone in a den of lions.

 

* * *

  


Her dreams that night were of the riot a week ago, of the man’s breath that she could smell. In the nightmare, Sandor never found her and she was raped over and over, like Lollys had been. She woke up with a jolt, sweating down her back and her forehead and her heart racing.

She missed Lady, her direwolf always a comforting presence at her feet. She could almost feel fur rubbing up against her legs but she knew that it was the bed covers.

It took her a while to go back to sleep, wrapping the bed covers tighter around her at the night’s chill. Her heart slowed and her eyes drooped closed. The next thing she dreamed of was of looking out at an old ruin of a castle. She ran towards the castle, wondering which keep it was. She knew she was dreaming but it all felt real, it felt like she was really a few miles before a castle. A big one.

She could smell all sorts of scents, hear the trees swaying in the wind. She could hear the howling of wolves far off and see the birds flying about between the trees. She ran and ran, swerving around the castle and avoiding the people that were still working at night.

Sansa finally stopped just a few feet from the castle’s edge, peering up at the big, ruined towers in front of her. Harrenhal. This was Harrenhal. The castle that Harren the Black tried to hold against Aegon the Conqueror. She couldn’t be here. She was in King’s Landing, in Maegor’s Holdfast, asleep.

A crackling noise drew her attention behind her, turning around and just as she did, she glanced down at herself. She stood on long, familiar, nimble legs and she let out a startled yip in surprise.

“Hey, girl. You probably…”

Sansa in Lady’s body let out a whine, hearing the strange, wolfish whine coming out from her throat. Or Lady’s throat. Lady, who was apparently alive.

A man approached her, apprehensive and slow. The man wasn’t familiar at all, with what looked like Baratheon black hair and Lannister green eyes. He looked to be Robb and Jon’s age as he came closer towards her, hands at his sides. The young man stopped, staring at her in confusion, allowing her to look at him.

The young man also had a strange looking scar on his forehead, one that looked like a lightning bolt, like one of the bolts that came with summer storms in Winterfell. Sansa let out an unconscious whine and the man raised an eyebrow.

“Is it alright if I come closer?”

Sansa pinned her ears back, thoughts of the men at the riot flowing through her mind.

“Not going to hurt you,” the young man spoke, kneeling before her. “Only… You’re not just a wolf now, are you?”

Sansa blinked and stared at him, wishing she could wake up now if this was a dream. She could faintly hear Lady’s thoughts, the wolf’s thoughts were near her, like she was in Lady’s mind and body. She could feel Lady’s joy at being alive again, at being able to be with Sansa again.

“I don’t know if I can talk with you this way,” the young man offered. “And I can’t understand…”

The young man froze briefly before his eyes lit up. “I’m not an expert but--”

Sansa never heard him finish what he was about to say as she was drawn back into her own body. There was someone knocking emphatically at her door, someone who had interrupted…

She sighed, wishing that her dream right before she had woken up had been real. It had felt wonderful to be able to get out of King’s Landing, to be free. To know that Lady was still alive. But no. Lady was dead because the queen had wanted a direwolf dead.

 

* * *

  


Harry stared at the she-wolf in front of him, blinked a few times when the second aura around the wolf disappeared. He could have sworn that he had seen something or someone human in those eyes. He didn’t think that this wolf was a werewolf though. The ghost hadn’t felt like that when he had touched her before bringing her back alive.

The castle of Harrenhal stood in front of them and a few Lannister bannermen patrolled the edges. Harry looked at the wolf and then gestured back to where he had made camp, a mile or two back in the forest that surrounded the castle.

“Come on. You shouldn’t stay here too long,” Harry remarked, watching as the wolf stood up on four legs and came to his feet. The direwolf was peering up at him, her yellow eyes glinting in the moonlight. “You’d get mistaken for the wolf pack that’s roaming these lands and you’re oddly trusting.”

Harry turned around and took off, hearing the wolf follow.

  


* * *

 

 

Harry kept far away from the castle in the next few days, seeing lots of movement in the next few days that he did not want to be a part of. It was mostly Lannister bannermen and men of the westerlands that were leaving Harrenhal to likely go south to King’s Landing. He saw the golden lion banner and sighed softly, thinking of Gryffindor back home.

The reputation of the Lannisters here was not great, almost as bad as the Slytherins back home.

The direwolf that he had brought back to life stayed close by him, seeming to understand him when he had told her that going too close to Harrenhal would get her killed. At night, the she-wolf kept watch as Harry slept and the howling of wolves surrounded them. He had heard rumors of a big wolf pack, one that was led by another she-wolf. The pack allegedly were man eaters, the big wolf in the lead killing Lannister soldiers wherever they were.

It made Harry think that the pack leader might have been a direwolf but he was pretty sure that the only direwolves south of the great Wall were the ones that the Starks had. And the one that he had brought back to life.

 

* * *

  


Sansa fell asleep five nights later to dreams of Winterfell on fire, to her brothers being killed. Bran and Rickon dead because Theon had taken their home. Her heart beat fast as she tossed and turned in bed, hearing men shout in the hallways of the Red Keep around her.

Stannis Baratheon had arrived two days ago, with his vanguard and army. The goldcloaks and Lannister bannermen were getting anxious, with the acting Hand, Tyrion, ordering them to ready for the coming battle.

She heard shouts that the kingswood was on fire, that Stannis’ men had lit the forest on fire to show that he was ready and willing to take the city. Sansa had heard that most of Renly Baratheon’s men had gone over to serve Stannis now that Renly was dead. The various rumors of Renly’s death had come to King’s Landing and some said that a woman knight had killed Renly. Some spoke of a black ghost.

She wished she was with Robb and Lady Catelyn. She wished she was back with her father and her brothers and sister at Winterfell. She wished that she had never left her home, never come to King’s Landing in the first place.

Now, Robb was King in the North. Arya was possibly dead. Bran and Rickon were definitely dead and Theon had taken Winterfell. If only… She thought of the dream that she had a few nights ago, remembering being in Lady’s body.

She had felt so… free in that dream. Free from King's Landing, free from the queen and free from Joffrey.


	3. Chapter 3

That night, Harry found a place to bed down that wasn’t too far away from King’s Landing. He really didn’t want to get mixed up in the siege of that city but the she-wolf that was with him kept on wanting to go further towards it. He could see the flames that had overtaken the kingswood from several miles away. The banners of several houses flew over the trees only two miles away, making up Stannis’ army.

The direwolf whined as he sat over the fire pit he had made, stirring the pot over it. His horse was tied to a tree behind him and was quietly munching away at feed that he had bought from the nearest castle.

“What’s up?” Harry muttered, looking over to where the direwolf was sitting on her haunches, looking over at the capital of Westeros. The moon had already risen over them and the stars shone down on his camp.

The wolf whined again then shook out its’ fur and Harry’s eyes narrowed as the second aura or presence made itself known. The direwolf now had pretty blue eyes and Harry stepped off the tree stump he was sitting on and knelt down, looking into the wolf’s eyes.  

  


* * *

 

 

Sansa peered through Lady’s eyes up at the young man she had seen near a week ago. She had fallen asleep even though the city was under siege and dreamt again of Lady, of this man who looked to be ten and seven. Better here than with a drunk Queen Cersei, who didn’t care for any of the women around her. Shae had also said that Cersei hadn’t kept the ladies there for safety and protection.

Ser Ilyn Payne was also there, she remembered. Cersei had said that the man was there to protect them from Stannis’ men. It was better to be dead than to be raped. Sansa had shivered when Cersei had admitted that. She wanted to be back with her brother and mother, who she hoped were still alive. And mayhaps Arya too.

“Who are you?”

Sansa stiffened in Lady’s body, pinning her ears back. The man couldn’t be talking to her, could he? This was just a dream. A good dream.

“Here, let me see if I can pull this off,” the man muttered under his breath. “I never was any good at reading other people’s minds. Bloody Snape.”

Sansa tilted her head, whined a little and backed up.

The man grinned reassuringly, shaking his head. “This won’t hurt either you or the wolf. It’ll allow us to talk.”

Sansa sat on her hind legs, hesitated before the man made a motion with his fingers.

_Hello._

Lady growled within her and Sansa startled, letting out a surprised yip.

_Uh, sorry. You are in the wolf then. And… not a werewolf._

“Werewolf? Who are you?” Sansa questioned mentally, posing the question to the man who had just traveled into her mind. “What are you?”

_Harry Potter. Human. Wizard. Who are you?_

“Sansa Stark. What…” Sansa trailed off, running the word werewolf around in her head. “What’s a werewolf?”

The man shuffled over towards her, sitting down a foot from Lady.

_A werewolf… They’re creatures from my world, the world I come from. Half man, half beast. But I don’t think that’s what you are._

“You said wizard.”

_I can cast magic. This… How we’re speaking right now. It’s a spell that I know._

“Magic? Spells? Which side are you fighting for?”

The man’s nose wrinkled, his green eyes soft. Sansa thought she could feel weariness coming from the man’s thoughts, the emotion running over the connection that they had.

_No side. I’m not from this world. You’re one of the Starks, right? The ones of Winterfell?_

Sansa blinked. “Not of this world? What’s that supposed to mean?”

_It means… The world I come from is not called Westeros and nor does it have seasons that go on for several years. I’m not from any house here. I just appeared here seven months ago accidentally._

“Accidentally? How in the seven hells can you do that?”

The man let out a quiet laugh and Sansa found that her heart skipped a beat at the sound. It had been a while since she had heard genuine laughter though Joffrey laughed a lot. Joffrey sounded like he was enjoying other people’s misery when he laughed. The young man in front of her sounded like he had actually been amused.

_Uh… I don’t know. I just stepped through this… mystical veil, not the Vale here. But… here. Look._

An image of a doorway showed up in her mind, fog streaming around it.

_I heard a wolf howling right before I stepped through. This lady’s voice, I think._

“You mean Lady? You heard her?”

The young man blinked, his lips twitching up into a small smile.

_You named a big wolf Lady? A direwolf that can rip people’s throats out?_

“She is a lady,” Sansa grumbled. “Arya and the others think the name is bad.”

_She’s beautiful. Lady. It suits her and you._

Sansa grinned at the compliment to her direwolf but felt her cheeks redden at the latter part of the boy’s sentence. “You don’t even know what I look like.”

_I know your voice. Where are you anyways? You have to be relatively close by or at least I think._

“I’m in King’s Landing. Where are you and Lady?”

_We’re not too far away from the city actually. Sansa… I haven’t been here for too long but I have heard of your family. Are you a hostage there?_

Sansa hesitated, standing up on four legs and turning to look at the city from in Lady’s body. She could smell the smoke and fire from here and see the various torches that Stannis’ men held.

“I am. I just want to go home.”

_Well then. Let me pack up and I can sneak into the city to come get you._

Sansa’s eyes widened as she turned back around to look at Harry, seeing him holding a sword that hadn’t been there a minute ago. The sword gleamed in the moonlight, the rubies on the hilt almost shining.

“You can do that? You wouldn’t…”

_Whatever King Joffrey has done to you, I will not. He…_

Harry peered at her, searching her or Lady’s eyes for something.

_He hasn’t raped you, has he?_

Sansa stayed silent, not willing to say what Joffrey had done. He hadn’t raped her but he had shown her Lord Stark’s head. He had had his kingsguard knights beat her. He had had gotten her unclothed in the great throne room in the Red Keep.

_I am not a Lannister or a Baratheon, Sansa. I swear that I will not harm you. Besides, I bet Lady would like to see you anyway._

“This is real then?” Sansa’s heart beat quicker and quicker at the thought that she had not been dreaming the first time and was not dreaming now. To be away from King’s Landing was a wonderful thought. She steered away from thinking of what had become of Winterfell but she knew that Robb and Lady Catelyn were alive and in Riverrun.

Harry dipped his head in a nod, brushed a strand of black hair back behind an ear. It let Sansa really see the scar on his forehead and made her wonder where it had come from.

_As real as anything is._

Sansa’s heart skipped a beat and Lady let out a joyous howl. Harry grinned at the noise, letting out a sigh. Other howls joined Lady’s and Harry’s eyes narrowed at the sound before widening a little.

“Come get me,” Sansa whispered, hearing someone shake her awake. It was Shae and she started to wake, her eyes fluttering open and coming back to her body.

Shae peered down at her, her brown eyes curious. “My lady?”

“Lady.” Sansa smiled, feeling some emotion in her mind and realizing that it was Lady. Her direwolf was actually alive! And someone was coming to get her!

Shae stared. “Sansa?”

“What’s going on? Is the city being taken?”

“No. Cersei wants to see you, my lady,” Shae said regretfully.

Sansa sat up, looking over to where Queen Cersei was sitting. Cersei had had all the women in the city stay in the Maidenvault, where King Baelor Targaryen had locked his sisters. The doors were locked tight, against the invasion force.

“Alright.”

  


* * *

 

 

Four hours later, Stannis’ men had made it into the city. Sansa could hear screams and booms of scorpions firing. The ladies in the keep were frightened, huddling in the corners of the room. Sansa had stayed in one of the corners near the door, watching the ladies out of the corner of her eyes. Queen Cersei had recalled Joffrey mid battle, probably fearing for her son’s life.

The Queen and prince had then left the room, walking in the direction of the throne room. That was the last Sansa had seen of the queen and of Ser Ilyn Payne.

“My lady.”

Sansa turned to see Shae gesturing to the guardsman that had taken Payne’s place. The knight was one of the Kettleblacks, one of Cersei’s guardsmen, though Sansa wasn’t sure which one it was.

“You should go. Back to your rooms,” Shae whispered, pointing towards the door. “I will cover for you with the queen.”

“Shae…” Sansa trailed off, wondering how Harry would find her. She wondered if Harry was even coming. She remembered how she had wished for someone to rescue her and her father right before Lord Stark had been murdered.

“I’ll be fine, Sansa,” Shae said, gesturing to the door. “Go.”

Sansa nodded and quietly walked towards the door, avoiding the women around her and shuffled through the door. Her heart beat faster as she made it out of the room, keeping her eyes out for any sign of Lannister guard or Baratheon men at arms.

She hurried through the halls, taking one of the servant’s stairs and ended up at her rooms several minutes later.  The doors to her room were closed but not locked, opening at the slightest push. A bark met her on the other side and Lady came rushing towards her, jumping up and propping her front feet on her shoulders.

Sansa grinned and threw her arms around her wolf, burying her head in her fur. Lady yipped out in excitement and gave Sansa a lick on her cheek.

“Lady,” Sansa whispered, feeling tears pool in her eyes and wiped them away.

  


* * *

 

 

Harry blinked as Sansa Stark appeared, or who he assumed to be Sansa. He really didn’t think Lady would have greeted anyone that enthusiastically, if they hadn’t been Sansa. He watched as Sansa burrowed into Lady’s fur, a wide smile on her face.

“Thank you,” Sansa whispered, her voice muffled. “How…”

Sansa finally peered up at him, finally letting Harry look at her. She was beautiful, deep auburn hair that Harry vaguely knew was Tully hair. Her blue eyes were wide and teary, her face pale.

“I don’t rightly know,” Harry offered quietly, shrugging a little, holding out a hand. “You want to get out of here, my lady?”

Sansa wiped her tears away and dipped her head in a nod, reaching out to take Harry’s hand. His hand was warm, callused and not like Joffrey’s. Harry looked at her, his cheeks redding a little before nodding.

“Let’s go,” Harry whispered, taking a step towards the door and pushing it open again. Lady followed them and they were just about to head through the hallway when a loud thump echoed throughout the hallway before them.

Harry dropped his hand down to his pocket, wrapping fingers around the elder wand. A man swayed into the hallway on the far side, clothed in metal armor and holding a wooden mug. The man was big, giant and Sansa sucked in a breath beside him. Lady growled low in her throat before trotting around to stand in front of them. “Who’s that?”

“Sandor Clegane. He goes by The Hound,” Sansa whispered, keeping her eyes on the man. “Kingsguard.”

They both watched as the man came to a stop a few feet from them.

“Drunk by the smell of it,” Harry muttered, staring right into Sandor’s brown eyes. “Clegane.”

“Sansa. Who is this?” Sandor asked, his voice slurring due to the drink. He peered down at the direwolf in front of them, dropping his hand down to the sword at his hip. “That’s your Lady, isn’t she?”

“We are getting out of here,” Sansa remarked quietly, curtseying a little. “Shouldn’t you be protecting us?”

“Fuck the king. I’m getting out of here,” Sandor muttered, taking another sip of the drink in the mug.

Sansa and Harry exchanged looks before Harry nodded slightly. They started to move, through the hallway and turned towards the throne room, taking that way out of the keep. Lady kept pace with them, keeping quiet and close to Sansa.

They peeked through the door into the throne room and Harry saw the Iron Throne, seeing Queen Dowager Cersei, King Joffrey and Prince Tommen. Ser Ilyn Payne was also standing beside them, the big, thick, grey sword strapped to his back.

“Sansa…” Harry trailed off, gesturing to the knight as they crept past them. “Is that sword…”

Sansa turned to look at the man he was gesturing to, her eyes widening. “That is Ice, my father’s sword. Ser Payne… He used it to…”

Sansa let out a soft cry and Harry pulled her closer, shuffling her between him and the wall. Sandor walked in front of them and Lady was on Sansa’s other side, softly padding on the stone floor. He eyed the sword, took one look at Sansa and quickly muttered the summoning spell, holding out his hand for the heavy metal.

The sword floated off of the man’s back and flowed right towards Harry’s open palm. He quickly stashed it in the limitless bag that he had with him and stared at the Lannisters behind them. Ser Payne’s eyes widened and Joffrey let out a shout, pointing towards them. Joffrey and Cersei’s eyes were wide as they took in the direwolf in front of Harry and Sansa.

The two kingsguard knights surrounding King Joffrey and Cersei drew their blades. They could hear the sounds of fighting all around them, as Stannis’ men came ever nearer to the Red Keep.

“She’s dead! She died that day!” Cersei yelled out. Lady growled and Sandor startled a little.

Harry urged Sansa away, seeing her wide eyes, and pushed Sandor towards the door that would lead them out and into the city. “Sandor! Let’s go! There’s no time for a fight!”

Sandor didn’t comment at that, apparently deciding that Harry was right. The Hound led the way and Harry casted a blasting charm towards the Lannister guards that tried to come after them. Lady took a guard down, leaping up to rip a Lannister guard’s throat out in one swoop, and jumping off as soon as the man fell.

The man fell and fell fast, his blood gushing out of the wound.

Sansa stared at the wolf then called her over to her side. “Lady!”

Harry and Sansa both watched as the direwolf gave a few licks to her blood soaked fur, peered up at them innocently. Lady’s yellow eyes fluttered, as if she hadn’t just killed someone in Sansa’s defense, and trotted off after them. It was probably tough for a direwolf to look like an innocent being after that but Lady pulled it off, shaking out her fur once and kept close to them after that.

The four of them, three humans and one direwolf, fled the Red Keep, sneaking through the city. Harry led them back to his horse and Sandor stole one, mounting up and walking over to take the lead. Harry mounted first and pulled Sansa up after, feeling her arms wrap around his waist.

His cheeks warmed a little and his heartbeat quickened but he ignored it as they took off through the city, avoiding any guardsmen. They galloped through the city, leaving through the Dragon Gate and didn’t stop for a few miles, staying quiet all the way, the sun rising around them.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Am I dreaming?”

“I should hope not,” Harry replied, as they slowed from a gallop five miles from King’s Landing. They had left behind the chaos of Stannis’ siege on the city an hour ago and it was past midnight. Sansa tightened her arms around Harry, noting the rough, shoddy quality of his clothes. “This would be a rather weird dream. Though I’ve had weirder.”

Sandor was riding next to them, a flagon of wine or ale in his hand and the reins in the other. Lady was loping in front of both horses, the direwolf occasionally glancing back to them as if to make sure they were still with her. Sansa smiled softly as she caught Lady’s eyes, leaning against Harry’s warm shoulder and watching her wolf.

“Sansa…”

“Hmm?”

“Do you know where your family is? Robb, perhaps?”

“Riverrun. We should go there,” Sansa answered, turning around to look behind them. They hadn’t heard any pursuit but she knew Queen Cersei would probably send soldiers after them. Or probably would. The siege made all the difference in that regard, she supposed. “My uncle is there and that is probably where the King in the North, my brother…”

“Riverrun it is then,” Harry said idly, before turning to look at Sandor. “We’ll make camp somewhere. I don’t think it wise to tarry in the crownlands now and we won’t take the kingsroad. Too dangerous.”

“My brother is around the riverlands somewhere,” Sandor finally spoke, his voice slurred as he took another sip of the drink. “I could do with a fight.”

Sansa stiffened, sitting back up on the saddle. Lady let out a low growl, mirroring Sansa’s feelings at Sandor’s idea. “We are not going to face the Mountain. We have no army.”

“We are not going to purposefully intercept the Mountain,” Harry grumbled. “It’s been a busy night and the sun’s not even up. Let’s find a good place to make camp and be done with it. We’ll travel towards Harrenhal and Darry then ride from there.”

“Though, I could probably be a one man army,” Harry added quietly. “It’s not like war is unfamiliar to me.”

Sansa frowned, hearing the wary undertone in Harry’s voice. “You were in a war? But you’re too young to have fought in King Robert’s rebellion.”

“Not his war, no. A war back in my home land,” Harry offered, as they rode.

  


* * *

 

 

They made camp six miles ahead, having just passed Duskendale in the distance. The stars were still shining brightly and the moon lit up their path. Lady had found a clearing off the kingsroad and Harry steered his horse off the road and towards the area. The three of them dismounted, tying their horses to a nearby tree, and Sandor volunteered to go find some firewood. Harry pulled his tent out of his pocket and placed it on the ground, with the forest of trees behind it.

“I’ve seen you do this,” Sansa whispered, standing next to Harry and stroking Lady’s ears. The direwolf was at her side, leaning against her and keeping Sansa warm. “Through Lady’s eyes.”

“Yes. You probably did. It’s an easy thing,” Harry said, looking at the small patch of fabric and whispering the word to activate it. He watched as the tent rose up, propping itself up by magic. He walked over and held the tent flap door open for her, watching as Sansa walked past and into the tent, hearing her sharp inhale.

“Where does your magic come from?” Sansa questioned, brushing a strand of auburn hair back from her face. Her hair had come loose from its’ tie during the ride and was splayed out on her shoulders. “I’ve never seen anything of its’ like before.”

“I was born with it,” Harry explained, stepping further in to check on the metal locker that he had spelled to be cold. He peered in, noting the remains of his roast chicken from the inn a few nights ago and closed the door. He didn’t know about breakfast in the morning but they would have food for the evening tomorrow. “In my world, there were wizards and witches. Not a lot but enough to make a world.”

Sansa walked around the tent, seeing the three rooms that held beds and the two stalls for horses. One curtained off room held a cauldron or two, big, metal bowls that definitely weren’t for baths. Though one curtained off room certainly held a bath tub, with pegs on the tent walls behind it that held furs and towels. The big area in the middle held a table, with one or two benches around it.

“You can pick a bed,” Harry said, pointing to two of the three beds. “The bigger one is mine but the other two aren’t bad. There was just one before I met--”

“Met?” Sansa’s lips twitched up into an amused grin. “You thought you were meeting Lady the first time.”

Harry grinned, shrugged. “Whatever. Talked to… It’s late. We should probably get some sleep.”

Sansa dipped her head in a nod. “Do you think King Stannis won?”

Harry raised an eyebrow, poked his head out of the tent door as they both heard Sandor come back, and turned back to her. Sansa’s eyes were narrowed in thought. “Did you want him to win?”

“Shae said that Stannis’ men would rape and loot, if they won. That’s what men do in war, isn’t it?”

“It’s what my brother did,” Sandor said, as he stepped inside the tent, stopping immediately after. “Who did you kill for this tent?”

“I didn’t kill anyone. It’s a friend’s,” Harry retorted, rocking back on his heels. “She let me borrow it. And your brother did what?”

“He raped and killed the Princess Elia,” Sandor said bluntly. He gestured outside. “I made a firepit and got a small fire going. I’ll go hunt something down.”

Both Harry and Sansa watched as Sandor left again then Harry turned to look at Sansa. Lady was sitting out of the tent, curled up before the fire.

“I would have wanted the Queen and Joffrey dead,” Sansa spoke, a minute or two after Sandor had left. “I still want Joffrey dead.”

“You can tell me what happened,” Harry said, crossing his arms before dropping them to his sides. “If you want. I’m not entirely familiar with this world but I know war. I won’t judge.”

“He didn’t… rape me, if that’s what you think.” Sansa finally replied, walking back out of the tent and sitting next to Lady, who dropped her head on Sansa’s leg.

Harry nodded, walking over to sit opposite her. “I’m glad.”

“He threatened to though and I… He had me beaten,” Sansa whispered, glancing up at Harry to see his reaction and slightly shivering. “Ser Meryn Trant of the kingsguard did it in his stead. He enjoyed it.”

“From what I’ve heard, Joffrey does seem to be the kind of king who would do that. He’s young and has power over people. He ordered the death of your father, didn’t he?”

Sansa nodded, heart beating quickly at the reminder of that day. “That was horrible! I was right there. Right behind father and…”

Lady whined, nudging her head into Sansa’s fingers. She began to stroke Lady’s fur, enjoying having her wolf with her again. Lady had brought her out of her memories, back to the clearing with Harry. “He said he would bring back my brother’s head. I told him maybe Robb would bring me his.”

Harry’s lips twitched up into a small but wary grin. “Robb certainly has been winning a lot of battles lately. The Young Wolf, they call him. The King in the North.”

Sansa smiled at the thought. “I can’t wait to see him and mother and go back home. To Winterfell. I’ll be safe there.”

“I’ll get you safely to Riverrun,” Harry offered, as they heard Sandor’s boots coming through the brush. Sansa watched as he brushed some of his hair back from his face and stared at his scar again.

“Where did you get that scar from?” Sansa questioned, watching as Sandor brought back a boar and sat down, began to skin it. “It’s not from a sword or arrow, is it?”

“It’s…” Harry trailed off, his eyes narrowing. “It’s from a curse. A killing curse.”

Sansa blinked at his tone, studied him. “Killing curse? Does that do what I think it does?”

Harry nodded. Sansa flinched. “It’s one of the few curses that would immediately get a wizard or witch put in wizard prison. One of the unforgivables.”

“If that scar is from a killing curse…” Sansa stared at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means I was the only one to survive the curse,” Harry answered. “No one survives the killing curse. You can dodge it but otherwise… You can’t block it or shield yourself from it.”

“But… how did you…”

“Survive?” Harry muttered. “My mother tried to reason with the man who tried to kill me. He took her life instead. Her sacrifice saved my life.”

Sansa stared, feeling her heart skip a beat at the pain in Harry’s voice.

“I’m the Boy-Who-Lived,” Harry said dryly. “That’s what they called me back in my world and I didn’t do a single thing. Lost both parents and was called a savior.”

“You lost both your parents?”

“The man who tried to kill me, killed my father too,” Harry replied. “But enough of that tonight. I’m not going to add to your nightmares.”

“Thanks for that,” Sandor said, done skinning the boar and now cutting up the meat.

 

* * *

  


The three of them ended up sleeping outside, not in Harry’s tent but with added furs. Lady stayed curled up against Sansa, keeping her warm and also keeping watch.

  


* * *

 

The sun woke her up, its’ bright beams shining down on her on a new day. She was free from King’s Landing, free from Joffrey, from Cersei. She blinked her eyes open and finally realized what she was hearing. Growling.

“Lady Sansa, do not move,” Harry whispered, having come to sleep a few feet from her. His green eyes were narrowed in concentration, the stick in his hand glowing faintly.

Lady was growling next to her, the direwolf standing with her ears pinned and her teeth bared. Sansa inhaled sharply, turned to see that Sandor was awake too. The Hound had a tight grip on his sword but hadn’t moved.

Wolves. The animals had surrounded them while they were sleeping and were now growling at them, each moment taking a step closer.

Sansa flinched at a particular wolf’s closeness. Lady growled again, louder and more aggressive, and then she howled. An answering howl met Lady’s and her direwolf’s ears perked up, her tail freezing.

Another wolf trotted through the pack, this one bigger and… familiar. Grey fur and dark golden eyes, bigger than any of the other wolves…

“Nymeria?”

Lady yipped excitedly, snapping at a wolf who had gotten too close to Sansa, and ran to greet her sister. The two direwolves met in a flurry of fur, wagging tails and excited whines.

“Your sister’s wolf,” Sandor spoke, his eyes wide.

Harry just looked bemused, grinning slightly. Sansa smiled, watching as Nymeria snapped at a wolf that had stood next to her and in the next minute, the wolves backed off, slinking off into the forest around them.  


	5. Chapter 5

Nymeria stayed until Harry, Sansa and Sandor mounted up on their horses and then slunk back into the bushes, disappearing. The morning sun shone down on them as they quietly packed up and rode off, veering east to go around the lake that surrounded Harrenhal. Lady loped ahead of them, keeping watch and almost guiding them away from Lannister patrols.

“I’ve heard of a big pack of wolves,” Harry remarked, glancing over to where Lady was. Sansa could hear the soft loping of more wolves around the three horses, wolves that were keeping away from the horses. She saw Nymeria more than once, her sister’s wolf running with Lady once or twice during their travels. “They’ve been causing trouble for the Lannisters.”

Sansa glanced over at Harry, where he was riding next to her. Sandor was in front, occasionally drinking from a flask. She had caught a whiff of it this morning and wrinkled her nose at the smell. Ale. “Tell me more about your world.”

Harry raised an eyebrow but nodded. “As you wish, my lady.”

Sansa felt her cheeks redden a little, her heart doing a flip in her chest, and she recognized the genuine touch to his words. They weren’t mocking or patronizing, like Joffrey had spoken to her, or Cersei. She wondered what was happening in King’s Landing now, whether Stannis had won. “How many… wizards lived? What was the name you spoke… Hogwarts, was it?”

 

* * *

 

 

As they traveled through the riverlands, they veered off the road, keeping to the trees and bushes. Harry pointed out several burned out homes and farmhouses as they rode and Sansa flinched at a few, seeing the burned bodies lying out front of them.

“It’s Tywin’s doing,” Sandor said as they rounded the corner and came upon another burned out farmhouse. It was midday and Lady had come back from scouting ahead. They were north of Harrenhal, about a mile away from the castle, and had seen the banners of the Brave Companions, the sell sword company that was fighting for the Lannisters. Their sigil was a black goat on a grey field. “Burning the riverlands, Lord Tyrion said.”

Sansa paled, walking over to sit on a log that Harry had… levatated in. It had been a strange sight to see, a man walking into the farmhouse with a log in the air next to him. Harry hadn’t even seemed to know that that sight was unusual. “You said the Statute was law in your world.”

Harry snorted, sitting down across from her. “It’s not law here. Besides, it’s a part of me. I’m not going to deny that. And people are more likely to ask for help here than burn me at the stake.”

“They did that?” Sansa questioned, watching as Lady padded over to the door and looked out. Nymeria’s pack had spread out around the farmhouse before Sansa, Harry and Sandor walked in. Mayhaps Nymeria had gone wild since Arya had done whatever she had done back in Castle Darry. Harry had said that he heard of the pack harrying the Lannisters and she grinned slightly.

“Non magical people were scared of us,” Harry offered, digging into his pack and pulling out some bread. “Here, you have the children of the forest and your ability to get into your wolf’s mind.”

Sansa blinked, remembering how she had been in her own body one minute and in Lady’s mind the next. She had been dreaming though, asleep when she had done it. “Warg. I think that was what they were called in Old Nan’s tales.”

“A warg? Is this something you’ve always been able to do?” Harry asked, as Sansa took the offered food and nibbled on it. “I know that there’s a spell that some wizards and witches can do that enables them to shape shift but I haven’t seen that kind of thing before.”

Sansa shook her head, eyes narrowing in thought. “I haven’t always had Lady with me. I don’t know if it’s only something that direwolves can do.”

Harry nodded, his green eyes lit with curiosity. “Perhaps it is. Perhaps it’s you.”

Sansa’s eyes widened as she looked over at Lady. The direwolf was sitting on her haunches, staring out at the wilderness around them and her tail was still, her ears perked up. Nymeria’s by now familiar howl sounded from far away and the answering howls of the she-wolf’s pack joined in.

They heard Sandor curse from where he was outside, chopping a little wood. “Damn animals.”

Sansa let out a quiet laugh then quickly trained her expression, her mind going to living at court and living with Joffrey and Cersei. She had taken on the mask of a lady’s courtesy and the meek daughter of a traitor, never smiling or laughing or expressing anything but obedience.

“It’s okay. You can laugh. You’re not in King’s Landing anymore, Sansa.”

She looked up, watching as Harry stood up and walked over to sit next to her. There was not a lot of space between them but Sansa was surprised to see that she didn’t feel uncomfortable next to him. She felt the opposite of how she had felt with Joffrey. Sansa turned to look at Harry, her blue eyes meeting his green.

The moment was lost when they heard voices and more howling. Lady whined excitedly at the barn door, her tail wagging fast.

“...Arry! What’s the deal with all these wolves?!”

“Nymeria!”

Sansa’s eyes widened so much and her heart kicked up, beating so very fast. She stood up abruptly, walked over to the barn door and slid it aside. The chill in the air sped into the barn and she shivered with it. She missed her Stark cloak, with the thick wolf fur and the safety of home. “Arya!”

“Your sister?” Harry asked, standing up too and following her. Sansa saw him study her and then he whispered something under his breath, his hand going to a pocket. Warmth curled around her in a heartbeat, her shivers dying with it. She looked at him and he grinned a little. “Warming charm.”

“Thank you.”

Harry dipped his head in a nod and followed Sansa out to greet her sister. Sandor was standing at the wall of the barn, staring at the wolf pack in front of them. Harry looked out over the wolves, counting twenty normal wolves and two direwolves. In the front of the pack, there was a young woman, younger than Sansa, and two young men. One had the looks of Robert Baratheon, whom Harry had seen in ghostly form, and the other man was younger and bigger around the side.

“Sansa?” The young girl echoed, her dark hair wind-swept and grey eyes wide.

“Arya!”

Arya Stark ran right over to her sister and they embraced. Nymeria and Lady howled joyfully, with the normal wolves joining in. The Song For the Two She-Wolves.

 

* * *

 

 

Sansa took a deep breath, trying to calm her breathing and finally pulled back from Arya, her sister. Arya looked taller and thinner than she had been when Sansa had last seen her. She had a hunted look about her as Sansa watched her rock back on her heels, as if ready to flee at a moment’s notice.

The last time that Sansa had seen Arya had been when their father had just been murdered. Arya had been crouching next to the statue of Baelor in the crowd, her Stark grey eyes wide with fear.

“Where have you been?” Sansa questioned, crossing her arms.

Arya grinned. “Around. I was in Harrenhal just a day ago.”

“You were in Harrenhal? That’s Lord Tywin’s castle now!” Sansa exclaimed, catching Harry’s eye. He looked bemused but not in a bad way, not in a way that made her skin crawl.

“I was a hostage,” Arya replied, glaring at her. “But Lord Bolton took it back! Is that the Hound?”

Sansa blinked at Arya’s fast change in tone, at her venom. “Arya! He didn’t have a choice! He was the Queen’s sword then.”

Arya’s eyes narrowed before she visibly deflated. “I am glad to see you, Sansa. And Lady? I thought Father… I thought Father killed her?”

“He did,” Sansa said, dropping her arms to her sides. “She came back.”

Arya stared at her then over to where Lady was. The two direwolves were sitting next to each other, watching over the two Starks. “Who’s that?”

Sansa looked to Harry, to where Arya was pointing. “That is Harry. He helped me escape King’s Landing. He brought Lady back.”

“Can he bring Father back?” Arya questioned, crossing her arms and her eyes wide in disbelief and mayhaps a little hope.

“Where was he killed?” Harry asked, walking over to stand next to Sansa. His booted footsteps even were quieter than all of the men in King’s Landing and Sansa wondered what had caused Harry to have to quiet his footsteps in his world.

“Sept of Baelor in King’s Landing,” Sansa replied, looking at him.

Harry’s eyes narrowed in thought before shaking his head. “I did not see a ghost that would have been your father. I brought Lady back because her ghost was still here. I think that’s the only way I can do it.”

Arya blinked, her eyes a little watery with tears.

“Arry?”

Sansa peered past Arya to the two young men behind her. One looked like King Robert and the other… “Who are they?”

“That’s Gendry and this is Hot Pie,” Arya said, pointing to each young man in turn. “Hot Pie… I’m actually Arya. Arya Stark.”

Hot Pie, the young man who was bigger around the middle, looked at Arya, his eyes wide. He studied her, blinking once or twice before his eyes went even wider. “You’re a girl!”

“Course I’m a girl!” Arya retorted.

“Gendry…” Harry trailed off quietly, his eyes narrowing in thought.

Sansa turned to look at him and he must have seen something in her expression.

“Who was your father?” Harry questioned, looking at Gendry in confusion. “Because you look like King Robert.”

Gendry blinked and Arya stared at him.

“You knew King Robert?” Sansa asked, looking between Harry and Gendry and Arya.

“No. Or well, I saw him… as a ghost,” Harry answered, shrugging. “There are a lot of ghosts in King’s Landing.”

“Ghosts… What are you?” Arya asked, looking between Sansa and Harry. “Why are you with my sister?”

“I helped to get her out of the capital,” Harry explained. “Nothing more. We were on our way to Riverrun, to your brother and mother.”

“You’re a lady!” Hot Pie exclaimed, looking between Sansa, Arya, and Gendry.

“No, I’m not! Sansa’s a lady,” Arya grumbled. “We’ll go with you. It’s not safe in the riverlands right now and I want to see Robb and our mother.”

Sansa grinned.

“Do I have some say in this?” Hot Pie asked, looking between the two Stark ladies.

“You can come if you want to, Hot Pie,” Arya said, raising an eyebrow. “You could be a lord’s baker.”

Hot Pie’s eyes widened and he nodded.

  


* * *

 

 

That night, Harry, Sansa, Arya, Gendry, Hot Pie and Sandor Clegane stopped at the Inn at the Crossroads. The two direwolves had gone out to hunt with the pack so that cleared up the decision on whether or not to take them inside the inn.

The six of them made quite a group, the Hound being the tallest and menacing of all of them. There were several people already in the inn and none of them even dared to come up to them or to stare at them too long. Everyone recognized the Hound and a few of the men did a double take at Sansa, her red hair standing out amongst them.

They made to sit at one of the tables, with Sandor going to get ale and food for them. The night had been cold and mist had surrounded the land that they had traveled in, making it ominous. The chatter in the inn continued as Sandor came back to them with food and ale for Gendry and Hot Pie.

Arya was staring at a group of three men that sat three tables behind them and Harry met her eyes. “Lannister men?”

Sansa froze from where she was sitting next to him, her body still.

“No…” Arya trailed off, locking eyes with Gendry. “They’re the ones who killed Lomy.”

“Lommy? What’s a Lommy?” Sandor repeated gruffly, before taking another sip of ale.

“Arya, what happened to you after Father…” Sansa stopped, shuddered minutely.

Arya looked at her before looking at the men behind them again. “Yoren was going to take me back to Winterfell. They killed him and Lommy. And they have Needle.”

“Those are my brother’s men,” Sandor said, grimacing. “They’re probably going to question the innkeeper until he says where they keep their money. Should probably go warn the man.”

“Go.” Arya gestured for Sandor to go and stood up herself. 

“Arya!” Sansa hissed, reaching out to grab her sister. “Where are you going?”

“Getting Needle back,” Arya muttered. “They stole it.”

“Arya…” Gendry whispered, reaching out to grab Arya’s hand. Arya stopped and stared down at Gendry, before yanking her arm out of his. “My lady.”

Arya turned back to them, her eyes narrowed. “I’m not a lady!”

Harry grinned a little and he could see Sansa grin before dropping her face. “Here. I’ll summon it, just like I did Ice. What’s your sword’s name?”

“You have Ice?” Arya questioned, looking at him curiously.

“It’s in my bag,” Harry replied, looking between Arya and Gendry.

“...Needle.”

Harry whispered the summoning charm under his breath and watched as the three men behind them startled, Arya’s sword flying from one of the men’s belts. It was a slim sword, with delicate metal work, but it seemed sturdy enough. It landed in Harry’s outstretched hand and he offered it to Arya, who smiled widely. It was a bit of a predatory grin and Harry exchanged a curious look with Sansa.

“You didn’t have a sword before,” Sansa said, as the three men all stood up and stalked towards them.

“Jon had it made for me before he left,” Arya returned, as Sandor fixed himself between their table and the men. Arya followed suit and stood next to Sandor, with Gendry heaving a sigh and standing up too.

“You look like you’re used to her,” Harry remarked, standing up too and offering Sansa a hand. Sansa took his hand and slipped to stand slightly behind him, her blue eyes wide but not with fear.

Gendry blinked and snorted. “I’ve been with her for months now.”

“Hey! We’re friends,” Arya grumbled, right as Sandor reached for his sword and engaged his brother’s men. Arya held Needle out and pounced on the man who had had Needle.

Howling started as the fight in the inn started and the various other people in the inn backed away from them, some of them leaving.

 

* * *

 

Gryffindor’s sword materialized in his left hand but it didn’t look like he would need it. The fight ended as soon as it had begun, with Arya kneeling over one of the men and poking him again and again with her sword. Gendry pulled her away and Sandor killed the last of the three men before the three of them led the way out.

Hot Pie quickly followed, having stayed put on the bench by their table. Sansa left after and Harry stayed only to drop a few golden dragons on the innkeeper’s counter, apologizing for the mess. They were met by Nymeria and Lady and the pack surrounded them as they rode off, Arya, Hot Pie and Gendry on stolen horses.

 


	6. Chapter 6

“Uncle, this is Jeyne Westerling,” Robb spoke, looking at his mother, uncle and grand uncle. Ser Edmure and Ser Brynden were all arrayed in the great hall at Riverrun, having just greeted Robb. He had just come back from the Crag and the westerlands, after numerous victories had granted them access. After their victory at Oxcross two months ago, there was no army big enough in the westerlands to impede them. “She aided me in getting better after I took the arrow wound.”

Brynden looked at Robb, before turning to look at the lady who had become Queen in the North. “Westerling?”

“My home is in the Crag,” Jeyne remarked, looking at Brynden. Her brown eyes were soft and when Brynden saw her look to Robb, they lit up with happiness. “Sybell Spicer is my mother and Lord Gawen Westerling is my father.”

“Ser Brynden… Is the news true?” Robb asked, his blue eyes narrowed. “Are Bran and Rickon…”

Brynden nodded, looking at Robb and Jeyne. “Winterfell is burned. We have heard that Greyjoy burned it.”

Robb closed his eyes and Jeyne stepped closer to him, reaching out entwine their hands. “The Freys have left us. We need to think about our battle plans.”

“We need to think about other forces,” Brynden said. “Tywin and his men arrived at King’s Landing and defeated Stannis. We received word the day before.”

“Where is my mother?” Robb questioned, looking at Ser Edmure and Ser Brynden before looking out at the balcony of the great hall. “She is not ill, is she?”

“She is confined to her rooms,” Ser Edmure answered, shrugging. Robb’s eyes widened at his words.

“She let the kingslayer go.”

Robb blinked, looking between the two men. “She let him go?”

“She said it was to exchange him for your sisters,” Ser Brynden explained, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what she expects him to do. He is a Lannister and a kingslayer. He has no honor.”

Robb’s blue eyes narrowed as he nodded distractedly. “We need a plan then.”

“The Freys will not likely overlook this,” Ser Brynden remarked, with an apologetic nod to Jeyne.

“Why was Tywin let south? Our plans…”

“It was one of Ser Edmure’s plans, Your Grace,” Ser Brynden said, with a sigh.

Robb turned to look at Edmure, took a step towards him. Grey Wind entered in through the door of the great hall, trotted over to Robb’s side. “Your plan?”

“I routed the Mountain at the Mill,” Edmure said, smiling. “Now they’re running. We took prisoners.”

“Prisoners? Now we have prisoners and Tywin’s at King’s Landing. I could have had the Mountain’s head on a pike by now!”

“We took Willem and Martyn Lannister,” Edmure defended, crossing his arms. 

“I don’t think Tywin will be willing to sue for peace,” Robb said, turning away from Edmure and walking back to his wife. Jeyne’s brown eyes were tight with worry and she glanced down at the direwolf with a little apprehension. “We no longer have any leverage against him or the bastard King Joffrey.”

 

* * *

 

 

“My dear, here’s your posset for the morning,” Sybell Spicer offered, holding out a vial of liquid to Jeyne. “It will help your fertility. Your husband will want a son.”

Jeyne nodded, taking the posset out of her mother’s hand, and looking out at the courtyard of Riverrun. Robb was down there, along with Ser Brynden and Edmure Tully, who was now Lord of Riverrun. Hoster Tully had died just an hour ago, causing the castle to practically go quiet with mourning. “Robb has a heavy burden on his shoulders, mother. I should go to him.”

“Go on, child.”

Jeyne blinked, turned to look at her mother. “I am his queen.”

“Yes, you are.”

Jeyne downed the vial of liquid and dropped it on her bed before walking out, seeing various guardsmen of Riverrun nod at her. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

“I want to go back north,” Robb spoke, looking at each of his lords in his war tent. The afternoon sun shone through the tent walls and they could easily hear the rushing waters of the river close by. They were again down one lord, one Rickard Karstark, who Robb had beheaded. It had been a week since Lord Hoster’s death and Rickard’s slaying of the Lannister boys. Robb had pardoned his mother just two days ago and that had finally led to the Karstarks leaving. “North, to reclaim our territory from the ironborn.”

Ser Brynden nodded, looking around at the assembled northern lords and riverlands lords. Lord Edmure Tully was there too, sitting in the corner across from Robb. “You will need men. Men that we do not have. The Freys and Karstarks have left and we did not have a big army before that. Mayhaps we can talk to the Freys though.”

“You will need their approval to cross the bridge into the north anyways,” Edmure said. 

“Perhaps you can wed a daughter of Lord Walder Frey,” Robb suggested, looking to Ser Brynden and Edmure. Jeyne sat to his left, a small version of Robb’s crown on her head. Catelyn had met her the evening that Robb had returned and had yet to warm up to her. “Uncle.”

Catelyn’s eyes widened a little before she turned to her brother. “Please, brother.”

Edmure paled and clearly was about to say something when howling broke the silence. Howling echoed throughout the hall and Grey Wind’s ears perked up from where he was curled up at Robb’s feet. Robb raised an eyebrow, watching as Grey Wind stood up and trotted over to the great door. 

A Tully guard opened up the door, out of breath, and eyes wide. “My lord, Your Grace, there are riders approaching.”

“Lannisters?” Robb asked, standing up and dropping his hand to his blade.

“No. We don’t know… It’s a group of riders and…”

“And?” Lord Edmure repeated, getting up too and standing next to Robb.

“Wolves. It’s a group of riders and wolves,” the guard said.

Robb blinked, looking over at his mother, who had gone still. His heart began to beat fast and he hurried over to the door, stepping through and walking out of the keep. He hastened through the courtyard, followed by Jeyne, Catelyn, Edmure and Brynden. Their horses were already saddled, waiting for them by the steps to the keep. Robb mounted his, with Grey Wind by his side, and galloped out through the courtyard, over the drawbridge and through his bannermen. 

Edmure and Brynden followed on their horses while Catelyn kept her own horse at a walk. Robb guided his horse all the way through the aisles of men and over to the edge of their camp, joined by Dacey Mormont, Wendel Manderly, Lucas Blackwood, Raynald Westerling and Rollam Westerling. His personal guard surrounded him and looked around at the horizon, searching for the group that the guard had spoke of.

Lord Bolton, Greatjon Umber and Maege Mormont joined them, on foot. It seemed that whoever was coming had drawn the attention of every man and woman in the riverlands.

The howling had not stopped and Robb was about to think it was the wolf pack that his men had heard of when riders came into view to the south. It was a group of six riders, with two… Robb’s eyes widened and he heard his mother’s horse arrive. Catelyn stopped her horse next to his and Robb heard her let out a sharp gasp.

“Sansa! Arya!”

“That’s the Hound!” Greatjon Umber bellowed, his hand dropping to his sword.

Robb’s eyes widened as he surveyed the group, urging his horse forward. Catelyn followed, her blue eyes wide and her skin pale, for it was his two siblings and their direwolves. 

“Robb!” Arya exclaimed, galloping over on her pony and jumping off at the last minute before running. Robb dismounted too, along with Catelyn, and ran towards his sister, grabbing her up in his arms. Catelyn stopped next to Robb, her eyes on Sansa, as her eldest dismounted.

“Sansa!” Catelyn murmured, her voice shaky. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

Sansa smiled, her body almost trembling with happiness. “Mother!”

Catelyn hastened over to her and wrapped her up in a hug, right beside Robb and Arya. Sansa burrowed into her mother while she saw Arya grinning so very widely. There were cheers coming from the northern camp in front of them, with Riverrun beyond the camps. 

Arya and Robb finally pulled apart and Arya came over to hug their mother while Robb walked up to Sansa, smiling. Arya hesitated for a few seconds before Catelyn, looking up at her mother’s shaky form. Catelyn raised an eyebrow but didn’t remark on it as Arya ran into her arms. Sansa’s eldest brother pulled her into a tight hug and Sansa could feel him trembling. Sansa hesitated before relaxing into the hug, knowing now that her brother was King in the North.

“How…” Catelyn spoke after a few minutes, her voice trailing off. 

“Harry.” Sansa turned around to look at Harry, who had dismounted and was standing quietly behind her. Sandor had stopped even further behind them, staying quiet while taking a sip or two from his flask. “Mother, Your Grace-”

“Sansa, I don’t want that from you,” Robb interrupted, crossing his arms. “You’re my sister.”

She nodded before introducing Harry. “He’s the one who rescued me from King’s Landing. And brought Lady back.”

“Lady?” Robb echoed, his eyes widening as the two direwolves loped over to greet Grey Wind. Lady yipped in excitement and nuzzled into Grey Wind. “I thought Father…”

“He did,” Sansa murmured, seeing Harry sigh. “He’s a wizard.”

“Thank you, ser,” Robb said, taking a step over to Harry.

“I’m no knight, Your Grace,” Harry offered, blinking before dipping his head in a semblance of a bow. “As your sister said, I am a wizard though.”

“Wizard?” Robb repeated, crossing his arms and pulling his cloak tighter about his shoulders.

Harry nodded, holding up a hand and whispering a word or two under his breath. A ball of flame appeared in his palm and Robb blinked, staring at Harry.

“You should be knighted,” Robb finally said. “You have brought my sisters back to us.”

“Arya, where were you? The Queen never sent word about you,” Catelyn asked, looking over her two daughters.

“I had escaped earlier from King’s Landing,” Arya explained, as Nymeria trotted back to her side. “Yoren took me, Gendry and Hot Pie from King’s Landing. Yoren intended on taking me back to Winterfell and the rest to Castle Black but we got captured by the Mountain. Yoren died and we got sent to Harrenhal.”

Robb’s eyes widened as he and Catelyn turned to look at the other two young men that had ridden in with the group. One looked an awful lot like the former king, Robert, while the other was big around the middle. 

“You never told us how you escaped from Harrenhal,” Sansa remarked, glancing at her younger sister.

Arya looked between her family then over at Harry, who raised an eyebrow. “One of Yoren’s men helped us escape.”

Sansa stared at her sister, seeing Arya’s shoulders curl inward. There was something that Arya was determined to keep secret, mayhaps something about how she had escaped from Harrenhal. But Sansa wasn’t about to tell on her. They both had gone through a lot during the past few months.

“Why is the Hound with you?” Lord Edmure questioned, gesturing to Sandor Clegane. “Isn’t he the Queen’s sword?”

“I don’t fight for the Queen or the King now,” Sandor spoke, gruff and firm. “Someone had to keep the little wolf out of trouble.”

Arya snorted, her hand dropping to where Needle was on her belt. Gendry shook his head in exasperation. “I don’t need anyone to get me out of trouble.”

“Trouble finds you,” Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes. “You’re like me. I don’t go looking for trouble but it finds me anyway.”

Sansa grinned slightly, watching as Harry interacted with her sister. Her heart skipped a beat as Harry turned to look at her and returned her smile. 

  
  
  


* * *

 

 

“I heard you were wed,” Sansa remarked, looking at Robb as they gathered in the hall of Riverrun. A young woman sat next to Robb, one with brown hair and brown eyes. “Lord Varys spoke of it.”

“Sansa, Arya, this is Jeyne Westerling, my Queen,” Robb said, his blue eyes going soft with fondness. “She is from the Crag.”

Sansa nodded, studying her brother’s wife. “The Queen in King’s Landing was very… pleased to hear that you had not wed a Frey.”

“Sansa!” Catelyn exclaimed, looking between her daughter and Robb.

“I lived with the Queen for months, mother,” Sansa said, her eyes narrowed. Harry sat next to her and under the table, their boots touched. Sansa did not shy away from the touch, even enjoying it a little. Having support was nice. Lady was at her feet under the table too but Harry knew what she had been through and understood. “The Queen and her son. I was in the lion’s den. I’m not a little girl anymore.”

Catelyn stared at her, her eyes narrowed, before nodding. 

“I saw father beheaded by Ser Ilyn Payne, by Joffrey’s orders,” Sansa continued, her voice steady as she described what she had seen in the capital. “I was almost raped during the riot. I saw people pulled from their horses and attacked, killed. I was beaten by Joffrey’s kingsguard when he wouldn’t do it himself.”

Catelyn gasped, her face going very pale. Robb flinched, his eyes going wide briefly before narrowing.

“I am glad you are back with us, sister,” Robb finally spoke after a few minutes of silence. 

“You saw Ned…” Catelyn trailed off, her voice watery and her skin again a few shades paler.

“I did.”

“I am sorry,” Jeyne offered, looking to her good-sister. “I do love your brother, if that helps.”

Sansa dipped her head in a nod and smiled a little. “I am glad to hear of it.”

“What of your friends, Arya?” Robb questioned, turning to look at his youngest sister. “Hot Pie and Gendry?”

“I told Hot Pie that he could be a baker at Winterfell,” Arya said, glancing at Catelyn before her eyes narrowed. “He can, can’t he?”

Robb sighed. “Winterfell has been taken by the ironborn. And by Theon.”

Sansa stiffened and Arya froze.

“And… your brothers,” Catelyn whispered in a half broken voice. “Your brothers are dead.”

Arya stared at Catelyn, blinking. “Bran? Rickon? Dead?”

Sansa flinched but didn’t comment, her heart beating ever so fast.

“Do you know that for certain?” Harry asked, looking at Robb and Catelyn. “Who sent the letter?”

“Lord Wyman Manderly,” Robb said, raising an eyebrow. “Do you know differently?”

“Did Lord Manderly say anything about the ironborn or Theon killing the direwolves too? They had direwolves, right? Your brothers?”

“Summer and Shaggydog,” Sansa answered, reaching down to pet Lady. Nymeria had gone on a hunt with Grey Wind and hadn’t come back yet. “Can you do the same with our brothers that you did with Lady?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, his green eyes narrowed in thought. “Given my title… Your Grace… what are your plans?”

“My plan was to go back north,” Robb said, glancing at Jeyne and Lord Edmure. “We do not have enough men though. The Freys have left and the Karstarks left when I beheaded their lord.”

“What did Lord Karstark do?” Sansa questioned, thinking on what she knew of the Karstarks. “They’ve been loyal to the Starks in the past.”

“He and some of his men killed two Lannister boys,” Jeyne said, dropping her right hand onto Robb’s hand. She knew that had been dwelling on Robb, a hard decision made even harder in their situation. Robb squeezed her hand in thanks. “The boys were unarmed.”

Sansa wrinkled her nose. “What about the Arryns? Surely they would help us?”

“My sister has changed,” Catelyn said with a sigh. “She refuses to send any men to help.”

“What if I go to the Vale?” Sansa asked, looking at her brother. “I am the King’s sister.”

Robb blinked, looking at her curiously. “Are you sure you are willing?”

“Yes. I will take a letter from you,” Sansa replied, her hands in her lap. “Lysa should help her family.”

“I will go with you,” Harry spoke, tilting his head at a thought. “If only for your protection.”

“I would also request aid,” Lord Edmure remarked, looking to Robb. “The Mountain has been running throughout the riverlands for a while now. Before you return north…”

“We can definitely aid with that,” Robb spoke, his blue eyes narrowed. “I will ask his brother for any ideas on the whereabouts of his brother. We will also bargain for our men to be brought back.”

“Oh, Your Grace,” Harry said, grinning slightly. “I forgot. I retrieved this before leaving King’s Landing.”

Robb turned to look at Harry, watched as the man reached into a pocket of his tunic, and withdrew a bag. Harry opened it up and reached in with his whole arm, making Robb’s eyes widen. 

“Ah, here.” Harry pulled his arm out and Robb stared, his mouth opening and closing in awe, as Harry handed Ice to him. “The King’s executioner had it on his belt.”

Robb stared, taking Ice from Harry, and peered down at it. His father’s sword that was now his as Lord of Winterfell and King in the North. It was as he remembered it, grey as ice. “Thank you.”

Harry dipped his head in a nod. 

 

* * *

  
  
  


Robb looked out over the great hall of Riverrun that night, seeing his northern lords and the river lords that had proclaimed him King in the North. His mother sat next to him and his wife, Jeyne, sat on his other side. He turned to look at her and she grinned, happy for him now that he had his sisters back.

He stood and all of his lords went silent, with the Mormonts, Boltons, Umbers, Glovers, Manderly and the mountain clans of the North all sitting around the great hall. Rollam Westerling and Raynald Westerling went quiet too, one Robb’s new squire to take the Frey boy’s place and one as his banner bearer.

“My lords, we are making ready to go back home. To the North. Plans are being made to retake the North from the ironborn and reclaim our homes. We have my sisters back and for that I am grateful. I will make sure that we find and bring back any northern or riverland hostages and bring the Mountain to justice.”

Everyone cheered at that, clapping. 


	7. Chapter 7

Harry was woken up the next night by whimpers, quiet little things that he almost couldn’t hear. But he did hear the scratching at his door. He rubbed his eyes open, blinked once or twice, and swung his legs off the bed. He had been lent a set of guest quarters in Riverrun for the next few days until he and Sansa left for the Vale. The room was bigger than his room at the Dursleys but smaller than the Gryffindor common room.

He knew Robb and Jeyne had their own tent with the northern men, as King and Queen in the North. Lady Catelyn was quartered in the castle, along with Arya and Sansa. Edmure had taken the lord’s chambers, after Hoster Tully had passed a week ago. 

Gendry and Sandor were down with the northerner’s, with Gendry becoming Robb’s main blacksmith and Sandor given a guard post within the army. Some of the northern and riverland lords were suspicious of the Hound but Sandor having brought back Lady Catelyn’s daughters had made most people less suspicious. Robb certainly hadn’t shown any suspicion toward Sandor Clegane, had in fact been very grateful. 

Harry moved away from the bed and walked over towards the door, opening it a little. It was still dark outside, with the only light being the torches that guards were holding or the torches that were attached to sconces on the wall. Lady was on the other side, peering up at him with expectant, yellow eyes. “Hey, girl.”

The direwolf was of a height to reach his waist now, apparently full grown. Harry watched as she gestured with her head towards the room next to his. He followed her over to Sansa’s room and put his ear to the door, hearing a quiet whimper through the stone. Lady whined too and Harry slowly opened the door, letting the direwolf in first before entering, glad for the soft material of the socks he was wearing. 

Sansa was on her bed, curled into herself. She had kicked off the furs that had covered her and he could see the night dress had slid up a little, showing her feet. 

She whimpered again in her sleep, twitching a little. Lady trotted over and jumped up onto the bed, curling up at her feet. Harry moved too and knelt by the bed, placing his hand over Sansa’s out thrown hand. 

“Sansa? Wake up. You’re okay.”

Sansa immediately woke up with a strangled gasp, her blue eyes a little wary and tired. She turned over to her side, facing him and stared at him, blinked once or twice before breathing a sigh of relief. “Harry?”

“You… had a nightmare,” Harry offered quietly, shrugging. “I hope it’s okay that I came in. I used to do the same for my friends back in England and at school.”

Sansa continued to look at him before dipping her head in a slight nod, reaching her hand down to stroke Lady’s fur. “I… dreamt I was still in King’s Landing with the Queen and Joffrey.”

“You’re safe in Riverrun,” Harry whispered, his heart aching at her shaky voice. “The Lannisters are going to have to get through me before killing any of the Starks now.”

“Thank you.” 

Sansa glanced down to where Harry’s hand was still over her’s and her eyes caught his green ones. Harry was shirtless, wearing just a comfortable looking set of night pants. Sansa swallowed at how his chest looked, seeing no fat there, unlike Joffrey. Harry’s muscles were from hard work, from running from an enemy. Harry blinked and nodded, withdrawing his hand and standing up. Sansa could feel her heart race, still halfway caught up in the dream of watching her father get beheaded over and over again. Her body trembled and she pulled the covers back up, realizing that Harry had not even spared a glance to her uncovered legs. Lady was the only thing keeping her legs warm right now.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?” Harry turned back, having gotten halfway back to the door. He raised an eyebrow at her, worry in his green eyes but no judgement.

“Stay?”

Sansa slid backward, leaving some space on the bed for him. 

“You sure? I don’t know what the lords would think about their king’s sister being in--”

“Get in.”

Harry’s lips twitched up into a small grin as he yawned and walked back over to the bed, shuffling onto the bed. He didn’t move very close to her but it was enough to reassure her, enough to make her shoulders loosen and her chest loosen up. Lady huffed out a quiet snort and Sansa watched as Harry reached down to let the direwolf sniff him. Lady licked his palm before curling up between them.

“Looks like I have the approval of our lady,” Harry whispered, facing her in the little moonlight that shone through the window. There was a slight chill in the air but Sansa didn’t feel anything but warm, having Lady at her feet and Harry next to her. A wizard prince.

Her eyes drooped closed again and Harry settled in, watching as she fell asleep. 

“Sweet dreams, Sansa of Winterhell.”

She jolted back to look at him, seeing the grin on his face and teasing light in his eyes. “You’re just like Arya!”

Harry laughed quietly before grinning. “Very well. Yes, I admit it. My father and his friends were pranksters.”

Sansa glared at him before sighing, grinning a little. “Tell me of them.”

“As you wish, my lady.” 

  
  


* * *

 

 

Sansa woke up with the sun the next morning to an empty bed. Lady was already up and at the door, turning to look at her with soft yellow eyes. A knock on the door coaxed her out of bed and to her borrowed clothes. “I’m coming, Lady.”

She drew on a new tunic, one that the maids in Riverrun had brought her the evening of her return, and pulled on a cloak over that. Sansa drew the Stark cloak over her shoulders and breathed in the scent of the fur before going over to door to open it. 

The Queen in the North was standing before her, the Lady Jeyne. Her soft auburn her was bound back in braids and her brown eyes were a little wide as she looked down at Sansa’s direwolf. There was a small crown on her head, one that was colored in Stark grey. It was smaller than Robb’s crown and smaller than Queen Cersei’s crown.

“Your Grace?”

“I would like to become friends with you, Sansa,” Jeyne remarked quietly, peering at her nervously. “I was wondering if you would like an escort to the great hall to break our fast?”

“Certainly. I never disliked you, your Grace,” Sansa said, stepping out into the hall. Lady loped out between their legs and turned in the direction of the keep’s entrance, following Grey Wind’s howl. “I just…”

“Were in a den of lions,” Jeyne finished, nodding in reply. They walked together side by side through the hall, passing by Tully guardsmen and Stark guardsmen. “I understand. I lived in the westerlands my whole life and my liege lords were the Lannisters.”

“If you make my brother happy, I would be content with having you as a good-sister,” Sansa finally said, as they finally stepped into the great hall. She could see Robb sitting next to Lord Edmure Tully and their mother. Their great-uncle, Ser Brynden, was sitting on Robb’s other side, discussing plans for the journey back north and recovering the riverlands.

Sansa could see Arya and Gendry sitting next to one another on the other side of the table. Sandor Clegane was standing at the big double doors at the opposite end of the hall, keeping watch. He had a direwolf pinned to his mail armor, indicating that his allegiance was to House Stark.

“I am glad to hear that,” Jeyne said, grinning at her. “I am glad you are back too. I know Robb missed you and your sister dearly.”

“I missed him too,” Sansa whispered, smiling at her brother and mother as they waved her forward. “Have you seen Harry?”

“Robb says he is up on one of the walls,” Jeyne replied, her eyes going a little narrowed in thought. “No one knows what he is doing up there though.”

Sansa nodded, walking over to sit next to her mother and grabbing some food. She saw Jeyne downing a posset from Lady Sybell, her mother, and pulled a mug of water over for herself.

  
  


* * *

 

 

Harry looked out over Riverrun’s walls, watching men walk around the castle to the north. From his cross legged position, he could see everything north of the castle. The Stark banners were spread out on the walls and over tents pitched on the ground beyond the walls. The whinnying of horses echoed throughout the air, occasionally broken up by steel sparking against steel. 

Sansa walked over to him, with only a foot separating them.  A Stark cloak was around her shoulders, the fur covering her neck and looking like it was hugging her. She looked like a lady, a proper medieval woman. She came bearing a plate of food and he dipped his head in thanks as she sat down next to him.

“You missed the meal this morning,” Sansa remarked, watching him start to eat.

“I’m sorry?” Harry blinked, hearing his stomach growl, and turned to catch Sansa grin.

“You are forgiven. No one knew why you were up here.”

Harry finished chewing on the sweet bread and pondered his answer. “I… We are going to the Vale today. I know that. I just… feel like something is wrong here.”

Sansa raised an eyebrow. “Is your magic telling you that?”

“It doesn’t… really work like that, or I suppose, it shouldn’t. I don’t know if any of my friend’s felt like this,” Harry offered, taking a drink from the mug that she had brought him and tasting ale. He immediately set it back down, whispered a word or two, and then brought it back to his lips. He sipped at the now water, enjoying the coolness of the liquid as it went down his throat.

Sansa paled next to him, the color leaving her face. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No. No, of course not. I just… I don’t like drinking when I’m about to meditate,” Harry explained, glancing at her and hoping she heard the apology in his voice. “Did we… get married while I was gone this morning or something?”

Sansa blinked, slowly shook her head, her cheeks reddening a little. “No. Why would you ask that?”

Harry stared at her, feeling his cheeks redden too, at least a bit. The thought of being married to Sansa Stark was intriguing but he didn’t know if she felt anything for him. She was a strong young woman, one who had seen her father get beheaded and survived that even while she was living amongst enemies. His heart did a flip in his chest as he remembered seeing her through Lady’s eyes that very first time. “You brought me breakfast.”

At her expression, he clarified. “Breakfast is what we called it back in my home world.”

“I… just wanted to make sure you had something to eat,” Sansa explained, seeing some Tully guardsmen walk up to the guard tower opposite them. “I shouldn’t have said I would go to the Vale.”

“Why? You have the experience. Granted, it was learning from the worst person possible but you shouldn’t discount that,” Harry offered, tugging his own cloak tighter around his shoulders and neck. It wasn’t as thick as Sansa’s cloak looked but with a warming charm and the soft fabric, he wasn’t cold at all.

“I’m not the King in the North or my father. He would have been able to get Lady Lysa to support us.”

“You are not your father. It’s true,” Harry said, hearing the clawed steps of Lady as she joined them up on the balustrade. The direwolf walked right up to sit at Sansa’s side, peering right over the railing. “You are your own person. You saw the inner workings of the Queen Regent and her council and the King’s council. You saw what not to do.”

Sansa’s lips twitched up into a small smile. “I did. Thank you. I just wish...”

“Wish your father and brothers were alive?”

Sansa nodded, sighing out a deep breath. “What had you said about meditation?”

“Oh. I like to meditate occasionally,” Harry replied, smiling a little. “This seems to be the most beautiful spot to do it too.”

Sansa grinned, following his gaze to the rivers that passed by the castle. There were clouds in the sky, seeming to cool off the lands and provide a chilled atmosphere to the war taking place in the riverlands. “This is where my mother was born and lived before wedding my father. She is Lord Edmure’s sister.”

“I figured that much. I’ve definitely seen more castles in the last few months than I saw back home,” Harry said, glancing at Sansa again. He started to breathe deeply, sinking into his magic more and more as the minutes went by. “Tell me about your brothers. How old were they and what they named their wolves…”

The elder wand hummed in his pocket as Sansa started to speak. 

“Bran was ten and Rickon was 6. Their direwolves were Summer and Shaggydog,” Sansa remarked, stroking Lady’s ears to the wolf’s pleasure. “Bran was the one that… He fell out of the old tower before we all left Winterfell. We left before he woke up but mother said he woke up and wasn’t able to use his legs anymore.”

Harry nodded, closing his eyes and picturing Sansa’s brothers. His magic swirled around them and the elder wand sparked visibly in his mind’s eye. The magic that had brought Lady back to life glowed black in his vision, the magic of death and whatever lay beyond. He had already anchored his magic to Westeros so when he opened his eyes again, the souls in front of him were only Westerosi souls.

He didn’t really recognize any of them, having not been here for a while. But he recognized Robert Baratheon. His big soul took up more space than any other soul. 

“Rickon was the youngest and always enjoyed his bigger brothers,” Sansa continued, her voice a little distant now that he was focused on his magic.

Harry looked around at the souls in front of him, mentally noting their appearances. He saw another two men that looked a lot like Starks but one was in his thirties and the other in his fifties. And yet another one who looked like he was one Ned Stark. He tried to talk to them and found that he couldn’t. It was like he was frozen in place, in this place where the magic of death lay.

But as he looked, he saw no children Rickon and Bran’s age that looked like Starks. 

“Sansa, what do Rickon and Bran look like? Do they look like your mother or do they look like your father?” 

Sansa blinked, her eyes going wide. “They both favor my mother in appearance and they both have blue eyes. Arya is the only one who truly looks like a Stark, aside from Jon.”

“And Jon is…”

“My bastard brother. He’s at the Wall, with the Night’s Watch.”

Harry looked around at the souls again, seeing no direwolves and no Stark boys. “I’m not seeing either of your trueborn brothers.”

“Pardon?”

“The magic that I used to bring back Lady is still with me,” Harry replied, seeing Sansa freezing where she sat. “It’s to do with the three magical objects that followed me here and it allowed me to see through the veil of death. I… don’t see either Bran or Rickon here or their direwolves.”

“Does that mean…” Sansa trailed off, her eyes widening even more. “What I think it means?”

Your brothers are not dead,” Harry answered, pulling out of his meditation to look at Sansa. She was smiling widely and he returned her smile, knowing what it was to regain family you thought was lost. His heart raced, seeing the sun rise behind her and her beautiful auburn hair glow. 

Sansa’s shoulders loosened and she looked at him, seeing the man who had rescued her from King’s Landing, had brought her back to her mother and brother. Had helped to reunite her with her family. He was looking at her with soft green eyes that did not remind her of Joffrey’s poisonous green or of Cersei’s paranoid emerald eyes.

“May I kiss you, my lady?” Harry questioned, leaning slightly towards her but not too closely.

“Yes, you may.”

Sansa watched as Harry leaned in, closing the distance between them and pressed his lips to her’s. Her heart skipped a beat as their lips met and brushed against her’s. Warmth and heat built in her at the touch and she leaned into him. Joffrey had never kissed her, had only had her beat by his kingsguard. Harry’s mouth moved against her’s for a second or two more then he withdrew, searching her face for a reaction.

They were both breathing heavily and Sansa smiled, hesitantly moving into lean against Harry’s shoulder. His arms came around her waist, gentle and steady. Her heart continued to race, enjoying being in the center of his arms, being safe.  


	8. Chapter 8

Harry walked along the top of the walls of Riverrun, looking out over the riverlands that he could see. He could see Sansa down in the courtyard, walking with Queen Jeyne, Lady at their feet. Arya was hanging out near the forge in the far corner, watching Gendry assist the Tully’s blacksmith. Nymeria was curled up in the sun next to the forge, keeping a slight eye on her Stark.

The Stark guards that Robb was sending with them were packing supplies and the wolf banner flew above them. Harry wondered what Hermione would think of him now, in this medieval world where women couldn’t inherit north of Dorne. It reminded him that he would like to visit Dorne sometime in the next few years. He had heard that Dorne practiced equal primogeniture, unlike the rest of Westeros.

King Robb was talking with a few of his lords in the great hall, talking of plans to retake the north from the ironborn and to capture the Mountain. He had seen a few northern Lords, namely Lord Bolton, Lord Umber and Lady Maege Mormont, along with Lady Catelyn. Grey Wind was with Robb as well, having gone on a hunt with Nymeria shortly before the midday meal.

The sound of owls drew him out of his thoughts and he tightened his cloak around his shoulders and glanced ahead, seeing the rookery to his right. The rookery was in the south most corner of Riverrun though with the strange shape of the castle, it wasn’t really ‘south’. Riverrun was triangular in shape, unlike the various castles that he had seen in other parts of Westeros.

He ambled over towards the tower, stepping in to look out at the owls that were perched throughout. House Tully’s maester, Vyman, was looking through paperwork as Harry entered and spared a glance at him.

“How can I help you, my lord?”

Harry blinked, noting the white raven at the top of the tower. “I’m not a lord and I was just here to look. No need to get up on my account.”

Vyman noticed him looking at the white bird and nodded. “Autumn’s here. Bird just arrived a fortnight ago.”

“White ravens announce a new season?”

“Yes, the Citadel sends them out. They’re more intelligent than the black birds and far more rare,” Vyman remarked as Harry walked through the tower. As he did, a raven flew in through the window, landing on the perch closest to the maester and stuck out its’ leg. A piece of parchment was attached to the bird’s leg, with the sigil of House Bolton sealed onto it. “Lord Bolton has been getting many letters since he arrived from Harrenhal. Best go see to it that he gets it.”

“I can do it,” Harry offered, reaching out for the paper. “One last thing for the king in the north and his lords before Sansa and I leave for the Vale.”

Vyman raised an eyebrow, his old wrinkled skin stretching into a weary, appreciative grin. “As long as you give it directly to Lord Bolton and do not read it.”

“I know how to keep things secret,” Harry replied, taking the letter from the maester and glancing down at the flayed man of House Bolton and wrinkling his nose at it. “House Bolton’s sigil is a flayed man? That’s in bad taste.”

“House Bolton used to flay its’ enemies before House Stark outlawed it,” Vyman explained. “Lord Bolton’s bastard son was sent to attempt to retake Winterfell but we received word that the Greyjoy traitor burned the castle.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, again looking down at the seal of the flayed man on the paper. “I’ll take it to Lord Bolton now.”

“Thank you.”

Harry nodded, stepping out of the rookery and walking back along the wall to the gatehouse, taking the stairs down to the courtyard. He paused in a shady corner between the wall and the gatehouse, noting the various Tully guardsmen patrolling the wall, and then whispered a duplicating charm. In the next second, a second letter appeared in his hands, identical to the first.

“Harry?”

Arya ran over to him, her eyes curious. 

“Mother says I have to wait here in Riverrun until Robb retakes the north. She says it’s not safe while the ironborn are there,” Arya explained at his narrowed eyes.

“I suppose it is safer here,” Harry offered, tucking both letters in his pocket and seeing Nymeria walk up to them, her dark golden eyes narrowed as she looked between her girl and Harry. “What were you doing in Harrenhal when Sansa and I found you?”

“I was captured,” Arya argued, shrugging. “The north can’t be more dangerous than that, can it? Besides, I had this coin from Jaqen. I was going to…”

“You were going to what?”

“Find somebody to teach me,” Arya said, turning to look at her sister and the Queen. 

“Teach you what? Sword fighting?” Harry questioned, seeing Sansa and the Queen come towards them. Sansa looked to be in traveling clothes, wearing a hooded cloak, with thicker material and no wolf brooch to be seen. “You seemed to do just fine killing those Lannister guards at the Inn.”

“I want a teacher. Mother never let me but I think Father would have. He got me dancing lessons back at the capital,” Arya retorted.

“Your Grace,” Harry said, dipping his head in a slight nod to Queen Jeyne. Her brown hair was pulled back in a braid, mirroring Sansa’s auburn hair. Though Harry certainly didn’t want to run his fingers through the Queen’s hair. He wondered if all Potter men became attracted to a red-haired woman. Maybe it was a thing but it definitely wasn’t a bad thing. Sansa was beautiful and strong in the ways that women could be. 

“Harry. We appreciate you escorting Sansa to the Vale,” Jeyne remarked. “My husband needs all the help he can get.”

“Is it really that bad?” Harry questioned, seeing Sansa’s eyes widen then narrow in thought. He took a step over to her side, looking at Arya and then the Queen as they talked. “Surely having his sisters back helped raise spirits.”

“The Karstarks and the Freys left. Robb only has 9,000 men left,” Jeyne said tentatively. “Not enough to retake his home. The Freys hopefully will rejoin us after Edmure’s wedding.”

“The Vale will help,” Sansa said, her eyes narrowing in thought. “Lady Lysa is mother’s sister. Though… I heard Queen Cersei say that the Vale was remaining neutral in the war. Petyr was going to help.”

“Petyr?” Harry echoed, looking at Sansa for an explanation. 

“Petyr Baelish. He’s a minor lord in the Vale,” Sansa offered, lifting her shoulders in a small shrug. “Father said… He said Littlefinger would help us. I don’t know what happened.”

Harry heard the sharp hitch in Sansa’s breathing at the words and reached out a hand. Sansa grasped his fingers and entwined their hands, squeezing tightly. Lady trotted over to Sansa’s other side and leaned against her. Arya looked between them and grinned. Harry could see Sansa roll her eyes at her sister and snorted.

“I will help in anyway I can,” Harry said, palming his wand in his cloak and feeling the two identical letters in his pocket. “I wanted to ask… What is it that your mother is giving you each morning, Your Grace?”

Jeyne Stark blushed and shook her head. “It’s nothing, just a posset for fertility. My mother’s helping me get pregnant.”

Harry nodded, idly thinking of the letter in his pocket and his roiling magic. “Do you have one right now? Seeing as it is mid afternoon and right after the meal…”

Jeyne’s eyes narrowed. 

“Harry?” Sansa questioned, drawing her hand away and looking at him. “What are you thinking?” 

“House Westerling is in the westerlands, right?”

Jeyne nodded, grabbing something from a pocket and handing it to him. “The Crag is… was my home, a few leagues away from Castamere and Casterly Rock. Are you a maester?”

“Not quite. I have had medical training though and…” Harry trailed off, examining the vial of liquid in his hand. He whispered a spell that would tell him the ingredients and his eyes widened. A scroll appeared in mid-air and the herbs that were in the posset lined the paper. None of them promoted fertility. None of them were meant for a healthy child. “Your Grace…”

“What is it?” Sansa whispered, her eyes widening at his expression.

“Is your mother in the castle?” Harry asked, his heart racing.

“Yes…” Jeyne answered, her face going pale and eyes wide at the scroll. “What did you find?”

“This posset is meant to deter you from getting pregnant,” Harry spoke, his voice shaky with anger. “Did you… You’re not taking these--”

Jeyne froze, her brown eyes narrowing. “No. I certainly did not… What do I do? Are these… permanent? Does that mean… Is my mother...”

“No, just stop taking them. And…” Harry said, exchanging glances with Sansa, watching as the scroll with the ingredients disappeared. “We should talk with your mother and have the king in attendance. It might be that she might not know what these herbs do or that someone else has been giving them to her.”

Jeyne nodded, still frozen in place. 

Sansa’s eyes softened and she took Jeyne’s arm. “I will go with you, your Grace.”

Nymeria growled and Lady pinned her ears down, her yellow eyes narrowed. Harry walked over to the Stark guards that had been assigned to them by Robb and had them wait.

Harry fell in behind Sansa and Jeyne, Arya alongside him, as they walked over to the great hall. Both direwolves followed and they certainly proved threatening, already reaching up to their waists and probably not done growing yet. The Stark and Tully guards at the door to the great hall let them through and closed the door after them. Harry looked throughout the room, noting the many northern lords in attendance.

They stopped at the front of the hall and waited for an audience. He saw Robb turn to look at them and then turned to talk with Lady Catelyn, calling for the other lords to disperse and get ready to go home. Some lords and men would be going to take back Harrenhal from the Mountain and hopefully capture Ser Gregor while others would be taking a long way around the Neck, to avoid the ironborn held Moat Cailin. 

Grey Wind let out a low howl as he saw his sisters and trotted over to them, nudging his way through the men and the Mormont women. Harry watched as Lord Bolton stood up before drawing on his otherworldly magic, slowing time and the world around him, curling his magic around Sansa to include her in his space. Everyone froze like ice and Harry snorted at the thought, seeing Catelyn freeze in the motion of getting up. 

The direwolves were the only ones, aside from Harry and Sansa, that were still moving. Harry sighed in bemusement, able to faintly see the innate magic that the direwolves held within them. As he blinked, drawing on more of his regular magic to see bonds. There was a magical bond between each direwolf and their Stark, silvery ropes of magic connecting Robb and Grey Wind, Sansa and Lady and Arya and Nymeria.

He heard her sharp inhale before she turned to look at him, her eyes going wide. “Harry, what is this? What are you doing?”

“I didn’t think this would actually work,” Harry whispered back, seeing Sansa’s eyes widen even more.

“You… didn’t think what would work?”

“Time stopped when I brought Lady back,” Harry explained, seeing Lord Bolton frozen in the spot at the tables with the other lords. “I guess the direwolves are immune though.”

Sansa nodded, turning to look at Lady as her wolf trotted over to see Grey Wind. “They’re northern. Mayhaps… Their mother was from north of the wall.”

“The Wall… That’s where the wildlings come from, north of the wall?”

“Yes. There are direwolves, shadowcats and more, besides wildlings. I saw a few Night’s Watch brothers in King’s Landing, after Lord Tyrion came to be Hand.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at that. “Do men of the Watch usually go to King’s Landing?”

Sansa hesitated before shaking her head. “They go to get prisoners for the Watch. That’s why Yoren arrived while we were there. The men had carried a… something from the Wall for the king to look at.”

“You didn’t see what it was?”

“No. I was… trying not to catch Joffrey’s attention.”

Harry saw her shiver briefly before glancing at where his hand was in his pocket. “What do you have there?”

“I just wanted a moment… I offered to carry a letter from the rookery to Lord Bolton. The maester said he’s been receiving a lot of letters, and only a few after coming back from Harrenhal.”

He drew out the duplicated letter, leaving the original in his pocket and ripped open the seal, his eyes widening as he read the letter.

“Won’t Lord Bolton notice someone opened his letter?” Sansa muttered, watching him read.

“I duplicated the letter for that exact reason.”

Sansa’s lips twitched up into a wary grin. “What is it? A letter from his bastard son?”

“No… It looks like we do have an actual traitor amongst the northern lords,” Harry offered, handing the letter to Sansa so that she could read it. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

Sansa stared at Harry before taking the letter and reading it, her eyes narrowing at each word from Lord Tywin Lannister. The words spoke of betrayal, treachery… “They’ve been exchanging letters for a while.”

“Hmm, yes, that’s what I thought.”

“Bolton… They’ve been Stark bannermen for a long time,” Sansa whispered, looking over to Lord Roose Bolton and taking a deep breath before straightening her expression into something that she wore when still in King’s Landing. “He was going to… to… Betray my brother and kill him. To become Warden of the North.”

“Warden of the North… That’s what your father was before…”

Sansa nodded, shivering again at the thought and feeling Harry wrap his own hands around her’s. She glanced down at their entwined fingers, her heart skipping a beat at Harry’s warmth and worry in his green eyes.

“I won’t let anything happen to your family, Sansa,” Harry whispered. “I promise. We need to tell your brother.”

“The Queen… Do you think her mother was giving her poison on purpose?” Sansa questioned, turning to look at her good-sister. Jeyne Stark was a pretty, young woman and kind, gentle in a way that Sansa was unused to, having spent two years in the capital. She didn’t want to see her turn into something cold, like her. 

Harry blinked, turning to look at Jeyne and then down at the letter. “Tywin says here that he has confidence in your brother’s reign being short. The Westerlings are from the westerlands and their liege lords are the Lannisters. Except for Robb’s new squire, banner-bearer, your brother’s wife, I think the rest of the Westerlings are holding to their old loyalties. I think it very possible that Jeyne’s mother knows what she is doing.”

Sansa sighed, seeing Harry grimace at his words.

“We’re about to greatly fuck up Tywin Lannister’s plans,” Harry remarked, his lips twitching up into a small grin.


	9. Chapter 9

“Sansa?” Robb turned to look at his sister as his lords finished talking amongst each other and left the hall. Preparations began to travel to the Twins, to attend the wedding of Lord Edmure and Lady Roslin. He could see Dacey and Maege talking between each other as they left and Smalljon Umber glancing to Dacey quietly. Robb grinned and focused on his sister and his wife. Arya turned to go sit next to her mother and Catelyn smiled, waving her youngest over.

Nymeria and Lady trotted over to sit with Grey Wind, the direwolves unusually quiet. Lady’s tail wasn’t even wagging, her ears pinned and her teeth bared in the direction of Lady Sybell Spicer and Lord Roose Bolton. Her yellow eyes narrowed before she started to pant, curling up next to Grey Wind and Nymeria.

Harry was also standing next to Sansa, his green eyes narrowed in thought.

“May we speak privately, my lord?” Jeyne questioned, her voice shaky. “Mother too.”

“Jeyne?” Robb stood up from his seat and walked down to meet her, holding out his hand for her to take. Jeyne immediately grasped his hand and he could feel her trembling fingers, his heart almost stopping at the hesitant, obedient way she stood before him. “What frightens you, my queen?”

“In private, Robb,” Sansa spoke from Jeyne’s side. His sister’s blue eyes were narrowed, her expression not betraying any emotion other than determination.

“What is it, child?” Sybell asked, crossing her arms and heading towards her daughter. Robb watched as Jeyne stared at her mother but did not touch her when Sybell arrived and stood before them.

“Lord Edmure?” Robb turned to look at the Lord of Riverrun, his uncle. Edmure glanced his way and nodded.

“You can make use of my solar, Your Grace,” Edmure confirmed, gesturing them through the door behind the dais in the great hall. Robb looked around for Ser Brynden Tully and called the Blackfish forward, feeling the need to have him at this meet.

Brynden nodded at his beckoning and led the way, through the door and up the set of stairs to the solar of the Lord of Riverrun. Robb went around to stand in front of the desk and waited until the door was closed behind them. Ser Brynden stayed at the door, his hand dropping to his sword idly. Ser Raynald Westerling came too, as Jeyne’s brother, he was interested in this too, as well as being Robb’s banner-bearer.

Sansa and Harry stood to the side while Jeyne walked over to stand in front of Robb, her mother by her side. Lady and Grey Wind stood at their respective Stark’s side though Robb could see that Lady was even closer than usual to Sansa’s side. Mayhaps the direwolf sensed something amiss.

“Your Grace, I have word of a traitor to your cause,” Jeyne began, her body trembling at the words. Grey Wind growled, pinning his ears to his head and took a step towards Jeyne, walking over to lean against her side. Jeyne sucked in a tight breath but her hand went down to entangle in the direwolf’s fur. Robb grinned distractedly, seeing that Jeyne was warming up to the wolf.

Jeyne steadied herself with Grey Wind at her side, taking strength from the wolf. Her shoulders loosened and her eyes narrowed.

Robb’s eyes widened at his wife’s words, seeing Lady Sybell inhale a sharp breath. “What is it? Are you alright, my lady?”

“Someone is keeping me from bearing an heir for the North,” Jeyne remarked, turning to look at her mother. Her mother, who had gone pale. Lady Sybell’s lips tightened into a frown and her eyes narrowed as she looked at her daughter. Jeyne drew out one of the possets that Robb knew had come from her mother. “Mother, what is the meaning of this?”

Robb’s heart stopped and his hand dropped to the sword at his belt. It wasn’t Ice, for his squire Rollam had put it in his tent. Grey Wind growled and took a step towards Lady Sybell, who let out a strangled gasp. The direwolf stayed right where he was, between Jeyne and her mother. “Lady Spicer, what do you have to say to this accusation?”

“I did no such thing, your Grace,” Sybell replied, her eyes wide. “I would never harm my own daughter.”

“I would be inclined to believe your daughter over you,” Robb said, looking to Jeyne to make sure she was alright. “Lady Spicer, what say you? I would not lie this time. Grey Wind can sense such things.”

Grey Wind growled, louder this time, and menacing. His teeth were bared and Lady Sybell took a step back, her breathing shallow. She let out a loud yelp as Grey Wind snapped his teeth and took a step towards her.

“The North will not win this war,” Lady Spicer finally spoke, her voice firm and vehement. “Lord Tywin promised me lords and ladies for my children. Lannister lords, not some jumped up boy who thinks he’s a king. I wanted no savage northerner for my daughter.”

Jeyne let out a strangled cry at her mother’s words and Robb pulled her in, wrapping an arm around her. Raynald’s eyes narrowed and he stepped over to stand with his sister, glaring at his mother. Grey Wind let loose a howl and Lady joined in as Ser Brynden approached Lady Spicer. Dacey and Ser Wendel Manderly came rushing in, their swords drawn.

Lady and Grey Wind both stepped between the Starks and Lady Spicer. Sansa stayed where she was, pulling her Stark cloak tighter around her shoulders. Her face betrayed nothing and yet, Robb could see a muted satisfaction in them.

“Your Grace, what is wrong?” Dacey questioned, looking between Robb and Jeyne. Grey Wind was still growling towards Lady Sybell, with Lady stepping back to stand with Sansa and Harry.

“Mother!” Raynald exclaimed, his light green eyes wide with betrayal. “You planned this from the beginning, didn’t you?”

Lady Sybell glared at her eldest son. “Our liege lord is Lord Tywin, not the boy. Not any northerner. You would have us be traitors.”

“Better traitors than using your own daughter!” Jeyne said, raising her voice enough that Robb could see that Harry made a movement with his fingers, the stick slipping into his hand. “You used me!”

“Everyone knows the Starks are honorable and I took advantage of it,” Sybell retorted, a strange light entering her eyes. “We will be recognized by Tywin after the war.”

“Your plot is over, mother,” Raynald spoke, drawing his sword and advancing on her. “Your Grace, forgive our mother.”

“This cannot get out to the northern forces,” Brynden finally spoke, from his spot behind Robb. “Men will lose hope if they discover their Queen has been manipulated.”

“Robb, you must know. I had nothing to do with this,” Jeyne whispered to him, her eyes dull with despair over her mother. “Ray, did you have…”

“No, I knew not what she and her brother were planning.” Raynald grimaced and turned to look at Robb.

“What can we do with her?” Robb questioned, gesturing for Ser Wendel and Dacey to apprehend Lady Sybell.

“Have her arrested and kept in a tower room,” Jeyne remarked, crossing her arms and glaring at the older woman. “Like you did with your mother.”

“Dacey, take her to a guest room and have it guarded,” Robb ordered, nodding at Dacey’s questioning expression. “Only by people you trust, Dacey.”

“Aye.”

Everyone turned to watch as Dacey and Ser Wendel Manderly tugged Lady Sybell out of the room, though Jeyne did not even spare her a glance. Raynald went with them, probably to go talk to her and his younger brother, who was a squire to Robb.

“We can have her exiled.”

Robb turned to look at his sister, seeing Sansa’s eyes narrowed. Everyone in the room turned to look at her, their eyes widening a little. No one, aside from Robb, had even realized that Sansa was still in the room.

“Banish her from the Riverlands and the North,” Sansa offered, looking at Jeyne. “I know you wouldn’t want to see her executed. She is still your mother.”

“I would be in favor of that arrangement,” Robb spoke, glancing to Harry before turning to his wife. “Jeyne?”

“I suppose I wouldn’t want her dead,” Jeyne whispered as she leaned into him further. “I just wanted to be able to bear you children. You’ve been so unhappy.”

Robb sighed and pulled her in closer, raising an eyebrow to Harry.

“She’ll be fine, Your Grace,” Harry remarked, understanding what he was going to ask. “Also… I forgot to tell you something else.”

“Ooh.” Sansa’s eyes widened as she and Harry exchanged a look before Sansa grinned, her blue eyes lit up in happiness. “Bran and Rickon… They’re alive!”

Robb froze, staring at Sansa. “Pardon?”

“Our brothers! They’re not dead! Theon didn’t kill them,” Sansa repeated, smiling wider. “Harry doesn’t know where Bran is but he knows where Rickon is. They’re both alive!”

Robb’s heart skipped a beat and he breathed out a deep sigh of relief. “Harry, are you sure about this?”

“Yes. I couldn’t see them in… Well, that bit’s not important but I am very sure that your brothers are not dead,” Harry offered, his lips twitching up into a soft grin.

Robb smiled, seeing Jeyne grin too. His wife smiled at him, her brown eyes lit. “I am very glad to hear that. Bran and Rickon… Why is it that you don’t know where Bran is?”

“I think… If I’m right about this, it’s because your brother is beyond the Wall,” Harry explained, shrugging. “I wouldn’t know for sure until I actually see this Wall but that’s my best guess.”

Robb’s eyes widened and he saw Sansa’s eyes narrow. “Bran’s beyond the Wall? Why would he…”

“You were with him later than we were,” Sansa said, reaching out a hand to slip into Harry’s. Robb blinked and grinned as Harry entwined their fingers, nothing showing in his expression that his hand was entangled with her’s. “Was he acting strange?”

“I left for war not too long after he woke up,” Robb spoke, shaking his head. “I do not know why he would be beyond the Wall.”

“On another subject…” Harry trailed off, glancing at everyone in the room in turn. Ser Brynden Tully. King Robb Stark. Queen Jeyne Stark. Lady Sansa Stark.

Robb watched as Harry withdrew two letters, one with the sigil of House Bolton on it and one was already opened. Harry handed the open letter to Robb, his green eyes narrowing and his mouth turned into a frown. Robb looked at him in question and Harry nodded.

“Read it. These are identical letters, both to Lord Roose Bolton,” Harry explained, pointing to both the letter in Robb’s hand and the one still in his own hand. “And before you ask, no one can hear what is said in this room. I made sure of it before we confronted Lady Sybell.”

“This is Lord Bolton’s personal mail,” Robb said, his eyes narrowing at Harry’s words. “Why would you…”

“Robb, read the letter,” Sansa urged, staring at him intently. “Roose isn’t going to know we read the letter. Harry duplicated it.”

Robb stared at his sister and the wizard who had brought his sisters back to him and then opened the piece of parchment. His eyes widened as he read it, his heart racing at the words on the parchment. His fingers began to shake and Jeyne wrapped her own hands around his, looking at him in worry.

“Robb?”

Robb closed his eyes briefly and glanced at everyone in the room before slumping down on the desk behind him, his shoulders curling inward. “Roose is planning to betray us. As well as Lord Frey.”

Jeyne’s eyes widened before she glanced down at Grey Wind, where the wolf had settled at her feet. She reached out for the letter in Robb’s hands and he let her have it, all the blood draining from his face. He watched as Jeyne read it, her own skin going pale too.

Brynden Tully walked over, his blue eyes wide, and waited patiently for Jeyne to finish. Once done, she handed it to him and he read it, his eyes narrowing at the words.

“No wonder Grey Wind hated the Freys when they came to plan the wedding,” Robb whispered finally, after a few minutes of tense silence. He reached down to stroke his direwolf’s ears and Grey Wind whined, looking up at him. “I should listen to you more, boy.”

Grey Wind let out a quiet yip, almost in confirmation of Robb’s words.

“What are we going to do?” Jeyne questioned quietly, her body shaky with emotion. “We can’t go to the Twins now.”

“Harry, you say no one can hear us?” Robb asked, turning to look at Harry.

“No one can hear us. It’s a handy spell that I learned while studying in the library at school,” Harry said, reaching up to run a hand through his messy, black hair. “Robb, if you choose to go through with this wedding, I will go with you. No one quite knows what I can do here and I promised Sansa that nothing would happen to her family.”

“Thank you.”

“Should we tell your uncle?” Jeyne questioned, looking between Robb and Brynden. “Or your mother?”

“My mother doesn’t need to worry more,” Robb said, seeing Sansa nod in agreement.

“Are the Twins the only way through the neck?” Harry asked.

“Aye, they are,” Robb answered. He sighed and wrinkled his nose at the thought of having to listen to the Freys even now. “Lord Walder Frey. The Late Lord Frey. I suppose a wedding will have to happen.”

“I could build a bridge for you but I think that would take too much time,” Harry commented.

Robb blinked at Harry’s words, seeing Sansa’s eyes widen as well. “You… can do that?”

“With magic, yes. It would take a while though and your men want to go home, right?”

“Aye, they do. I do.”

“It could… if we manage this correctly, it would leave an impression,” Brynden remarked, looking at Robb and handing the letter back to Harry. “We’ll make sure to tell the men not to drink and to keep their armor on.”

“That would look suspicious,” Jeyne said, her eyes narrowing in thought. “Men drink during celebrations and feasts.”

“You’re staying here anyway,” Robb spoke, looking at Jeyne and Sansa. “Even before we knew of this betrayal, I had told you to stay here. Now…”

“You better come back to me,” Jeyne retorted, poking Robb in the chest. “If I lost my opportunity for a Lannister lord or heir, I am not losing my northman.”

Robb let out a strangled laugh, his shoulders loosening and he drew Jeyne into a kiss. “I love you, Jeyne.”

“I love you too,” Jeyne whispered into the kiss and Robb grinned. “And when you come back, we’re officially making you an heir.”

Robb laughed loudly this time, his heart racing as he stared at his wife. “I would not have anyone but you in my bed, my lady.”

Jeyne grinned.

 

* * *

  


The next morning dawned too soon and Robb and Edmure mounted their horses, riding ahead of the long train of northerners. Catelyn, Arya, Sansa and Jeyne would be staying in Riverrun until the wedding was over. Brynden would stay in Riverrun to hold the keep in Edmure's name. Once Robb was ahead of the line of men, with Raynald bearing the Stark banner and Rollam riding right behind him, he turned to look back. The many lines of northerners rode behind him, eager to get home.

There were the banners of House Mormont, House Umber, House Glover, House Manderly, and House Bolton. The flayed man now made Robb frown briefly, meeting the eyes of Lord Roose Bolton before he turned and rode off, towards the Twins for the marriage of Edmure and Roslin. He looked around for Harry, not even seeing the young man in the many throngs of men.

“Where is Harry?” Robb questioned, seeing Edmure urge his horse alongside him.

“He already left,” Edmure remarked, shrugging. “He said he had something to do before he would join back up with us.”

“Very well. I trust the man. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

  


_“Keep my brother safe,” Sansa whispered, her blue eyes almost bright in the early morning sun. They had woken up before everyone else, met up right in front of Sansa’s room at Riverrun. Her hood was up, hiding her hair and she met Harry’s eyes as he stopped in front of her. Lady was curled around her Stark, her ears pinned. The direwolf was already so tall, reaching up to about Sansa’s waist and Harry stroked the wolf’s head. Lady arched into his hand before withdrawing._

_Harry looked at her, his green eyes glowing as the sun rose behind them. “Sansa, I will come back. So will your brother.”_

_Sansa nodded, frowning. She thought of their meeting last night with Robb and Jeyne. She thought of Bolton’s letter and thought of what would happen if everything went wrong at the Twins. “Leave early.”_

_Harry blinked, meeting her eyes without flinching, searching her face for something and apparently finding it. “I’ve killed people before.”_

_Sansa turned to look out at the window in front of them, looking out over the castle. Robb’s forces were already getting ready for the journey back north, back home. “I don’t want to lose my family again.”_

_“Alright. I’ll leave now,” Harry whispered, closing the distance between them and reached out._

_Sansa leaned into his fingers and arched up for the kiss, meeting Harry’s lips with her own. He made a startled noise before leaning into her, deepening the kiss as they moved together. His other arm curled around her shoulders and drew her in further, slipping his tongue into her mouth. Sansa moaned into it, feeling his tongue brush hers, wetness gathering in her body and warmth building at the base of her spine._

_Harry drew back as they both breathed heavily, leaning his forehead against her’s as they caught their breath. His hand had moved into her hair, clinging onto her in more ways than one. His eyes were wide with arousal and her heart was racing. So this was what true kissing was like. She grinned, watching as he returned her smile._

_“Perhaps we can ask my brother if we can marry,” Sansa murmured, as Harry pulled back, taking his hand away but leaving an arm around her waist. “There’s no one else I would rather wed.”_

_Harry’s eyes widened before his lips twitched up into a wary smile. “In my world, men would get down onto one knee and propose marriage. I suppose it’s different here.”_

_Sansa raised an eyebrow. “They would get down onto one knee?”_

_“I should leave now, Sansa, if I’m to leave before your brother,” Harry said, looking out over the window before returning to her. “Keep Lady with you while I’m gone.”_

_“I will.”_


	10. Chapter 10

Robb and his men arrived at the Twins within a week after leaving Riverrun, Grey Wind in the lead with the outriders. The sun was falling in the sky as they set up camp, the Starks pitching tents near the entrance to the Twins. The northern host would stay outside the castle for the duration of the wedding, as Lord Walder Frey had not allowed them to stay in the castle. Edmure rode next to Robb, more than a little hesitant about the marriage to a Frey. Robb and his personal guard rode into the courtyard of the main keep at the Twins, seeing servants bustle about to get ready for the wedding.

A few Frey men awaited them in the courtyard, Lord Walder Frey amongst them. Robb’s eyes narrowed in idle thought, wondering who the heir to the Twins would be. There were a lot of Freys and he wasn’t quite clear on who the next heir was. Stevron Frey, the former heir, had died at the battle at Oxcross and had been someone who Robb thought was reasonable and amiable.   

“Welcome, Your Grace,” Lord Walder spoke, watching as Robb and Edmure dismounted from their horses. Hostlers came to fetch everyone’s horses and Robb took in the many Frey servants and guards around the keep. He still couldn’t see Harry anywhere in the crowd of Frey men or Stark men but he knew he was around here somewhere. “We are honored to have you here for the wedding of your uncle.”

Edmure stepped forward and shook Walder’s outstretched hand, grinning a little. Robb and Brynden had decided to not tell Edmure about the threat and about the betrayal planned, as Edmure wasn’t a very good liar. Dacey and Wendel idly dropped their hands to their swords as they flanked Robb, both of them willing to die for him. Patrek Mallister stood by Robb and Edmure, the heir of Seagard and one of Edmure’s closest friends.

Grey Wind stayed very close to Robb’s side, growling at each Frey who came too close as they walked into the keep. Harry had told him to keep the wolf close the night before leaving so he would keep his friend close.

A few Frey men startled away from Grey Wind’s growling and Ser Ryman Frey’s eyes narrowed, grimacing in distaste.

“Begging your pardon your Grace, but would you mind kenneling that animal outside?”

Robb turned to look at Ser Edwyn and then down at his direwolf. Grey Wind was outright growling now, ears pinned and body still. “I trust Grey Wind to not eat anyone. He’s safe around people loyal to me.”

“It’s all very well and good but this is a wedding,” Black Walder said from across the hall. “It should be a joyous occasion with nothing to fear. Lady Roslin would fear your wolf.”

“I don’t fear Grey Wind,” Edmure spoke, interrupting whatever Ser Ryman was about to say. “He’s fought and killed many Lannister men. Robb is the King in the North now. He can bring his wolf with him wherever he goes.”

Ser Ryman and Black Walder exchanged glances before shrugging and walking off. Robb could distinctly see that both of them were sweating, Ryman more profusely than any other Frey.

Robb crossed his arms and thought of Jeyne, waiting at Riverrun for him, before heading over to where his own tent was being pitched. The wedding ceremony would start at sunset and so would the drinking.

Greatjon Umber was already drinking with many of the Umber men and Manderly men. Raynald and Rollam Westerling were at the door to his tent and they both smiled at him though Raynald was looking more wary than his brother. “You have two Frey guests inside, Your Grace.”

Dacey, Patrek, Lucas, Smalljon and Wendel stopped by the door, their hands on their weapons. Robb stepped inside, his eyes widening a little at the two men inside. One was Olyvar Frey, his former squire. The other, Harry Potter in… Frey colors.

“Harry, when did you arrive here?” Robb questioned, seeing Grey Wind trot over to say hello to them both. “And Olyvar. I thought you left with your house.”

“Harry told me what they were going to do,” Olyvar remarked quietly, looking down at the ground and then kneeling. “I won’t let that happen. You’re my king and my master.”

Robb blinked, his heart skipping a beat at hearing the determination in the young man’s voice.

“He was outside of the Twins when I found him,” Harry said, picking at something on the House Frey clothing he was wearing. He looked uncomfortable in the chainmail and blue tunic that had the Twins stitched into it, his shoulders stiff and curled inward. His long black hair was tied back this time, the scar on his forehead standing out more.  “His father told him some bullshit excuse to get him out of the castle. He did not want to leave your service in the first place.”

“Olyvar, I do not hold to the Faith,” Robb said, taking a deep breath in and sighing. “But if you still want--”

“Please, my lord. I would like to be your squire again and protect you from the other members of my house,” Olyvar said.

“I don’t know a lot about the North but it could probably do with more knights,” Harry remarked, catching Robb’s eyes. “I see nothing wrong with taking him as your squire again, even if you lot don’t hold to the Faith. You could have the Knights of the Old… Or some flashy name like that.”

Robb heard Dacey snort outside the tent and he grinned. “Olyvar, I would welcome you as my squire again. You are a loyal friend.”

Olyvar peered up at him and smiled, standing up and going over to stand in the corner, petting Grey Wind as the wolf followed.

“What else have you uncovered?” Robb asked, seeing Olyvar’s eyes widening at Ice as Rollam Westerling came in the tent with it. “With leaving earlier than us, I did not expect you to do _this_.”

“You needed a spy,” Harry replied, shrugging. “Lord Varys does that for the King on the Iron Throne.”

“I am not the King on the Iron Throne.”

“No, you are not. But you might like having advisors of a sort,” Harry said, glancing out of the tent and back to Robb. “Right… The wedding will go off quietly tonight as I suspected. Lord Edmure Tully will wed Lady Roslin Frey, who knows about the plan.”

“She knows?”

“She’s being forced to go along with it,” Harry explained, his eyes narrowing at the thought. Robb grimaced at the idea too, not liking that one bit. “The Freys apparently always wanted a Frey-Tully marriage so they’ll let this one happen without any murder. Afterward though… The wedding feast… That’s when they and the Boltons planning on betraying all of us.”

“How do we know when they’re about to start?” Robb asked, glancing to Olyvar apologetically. His squire shook his head at Robb’s expression, knowing that he wasn’t counted amongst the traitorous Freys.

“The musicians will start to play a certain song, ‘The Rains of Castamere’?” Harry shook his head. “I don’t know what that is but it’s going to be the signal to start killing.”

“That song was written about Lord Tywin’s handling of the Reyne-Tarbeck rebellion,” Olyvar said, glancing to Harry.

“The what now?”

Robb’s lips twitched up into a weary grin. “The Reynes and Tarbecks were bannermen of the Lannisters during King Aerys’ time and they rebelled against them.”

“Let me guess. It didn’t end well.”

“Tywin had the Reynes drowned in their own castle,” Robb said, grimacing. “It’s why mother said we had to defeat them on the battlefield. Everyone knows what the Lannisters do to children.”

Harry blinked, his eyes widening in horror. His mouth opened once, twice before closing. “Wasn’t… Lord Tywin also responsible for the sack of King’s Landing? I haven’t heard much about the Targaryens but… Aegon, Rhaenys and Elia did not deserve that.”

“Aye, he was.”

“Alright then.”

“I’ll be around,” Harry said, walking over to the tent door and turning to look at Robb.

Robb watched as Harry left, ducking out through the tent door and once again blending into the guardsmen of House Frey.

“You ought to give that boy a lordship once we’re back home and rid of the ironborn,” Dacey remarked, poking her head into the tent, glancing at him. Robb nodded in agreement, pondering her words and Harry’s.

 

* * *

  


Edmure hadn’t given it too much thought that his sister or brother wasn’t coming to the wedding. His friend, Patrek, had joined him and was now smirking at him from Robb’s side. Edmure made a rude gesture towards Patrek and he rolled his eyes. Robb had thought it safer for Catelyn to stay at Riverrun and Brynden was holding the castle in his name. The welcoming was a small one, with bread and salt given by the Freys to the Starks and Tullys as a guest right tradition.

The wedding was to take place in an hour, giving them enough time to break from their travels and to relax. The musicians up in the rafts of the hall played jolly tunes, from ‘The Bear and the Maiden Fair’ to one about Good Queen Alysanne. The lanterns about the hall walls were lit as the sun traveled farther east and torches were lit from cook fires.

Lord Walder Frey sat on the dais, with no one else next to him on either side. Robb sat in one of the front seats, alongside Dacey Mormont and Wendel Manderly. Raynald Westerling was seated on the other side of Dacey, Grey Wind at his feet. The wolf was quiet but still alert, still paying attention to everyone who passed by their table.

 

* * *

  


The septon of the Twins stood in the center of the aisle, looking on as Lord Edmure stood in front of him. The Starks were looking on as Lady Roslin moved up the aisle, in a beautiful white maiden’s cloak. Robb idly thought that Sansa would have done a better job at the stitching but perhaps Lady Roslin did not have many friends here in the Twins. She looked miserable, her eyes red and puffy from crying. There was a veil over her face and as she made to the dais, Edmure took a step closer and flipped it, his eyes widening.

Lady Roslin was beautiful, her dark hair loose against her back and her brown eyes wide.

“My lady,” Edmure whispered, taking her hands and gently nudging her into turning to face the septon. Roslin let out a soft cry and caught his eyes as he watched her. “You’re beautiful.”

Another tear fell down Roslin’s cheek and Edmure reached out to wipe it away, hoping that it wasn’t fear about him that she was crying about. They faced each other as the septon spoke the marriage vows and repeated them as prompted.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection,” the septon spoke, his words heard throughout the hall.

Edmure grinned hesitantly and lifted his cloak from his shoulders, the Tully cloak of red and blue and slid it onto Roslin’s shoulders. Their hands were together and Edmure could feel that Roslin was trembling. He squeezed gently in reassurance and she looked into his eyes, taking a deep breath and then releasing it.

 

* * *

  


“Now for the bedding ceremony!” Greatjon Umber exclaimed, standing up and gesturing with his arms, one of which held a cup of ale. The men around the hall all shouted in excitement and Roslin yelped as she was scooped up by eager Freys. Edmure was pushed along too, smiling widely, though Robb could see that his uncle was nervous and not for reasons that belonged to the Freys upcoming betrayal. He smiled at Edmure as he passed and winked. His own, quiet ceremony with Jeyne was still bright in his memory.

Robb could see Patrek grin at Edmure and his uncle grinned back as the bride and groom were escorted to their room for the bedding. The musicians quietly continued to play music as people trailed out, following either the bride and groom or going outside to continue drinking. Robb turned to look up at the raft, up where the four musicians were, eying them with distrust. Rollam was right next to him, with a bespelled, hidden Ice on his lap. Raynald stood next to him, his eyes on Lord Walder Frey as the musicians changed tune above them.

The doors closed behind them, one Frey that Robb didn’t recognize locking them. The music changed and chaos erupted as the Rains of Castamere flowed through the hall. Screams blew through the air above them as Rollam handed over Ice. Crossbow bolts flew through the air and struck men. One struck Robb’s chest, stopped by the thick armor he had on beneath his nice tunic. His clothes glowed subtly and the arrow disintegrated, magicked by Harry to ward off killing blows. Robb reached for Ice and sliced cleanly through a Frey guard coming for him. Rollam handed over other weapons to the other members of Robb’s guard, an axe to Dacey, a sword to Lucas Blackwood, another axe to Patrek Mallister, a bow to Wendel Manderly.

Harry could be seen in the rafters, his wand held in his left hand, and glowing. Magic filled the air as Harry killed the crossbowmen, Smalljon Umber by his side to fend off attacks by sword. Grey Wind’s howl filled the hall as the direwolf joined in, the eerie sound carrying outside. Blood splattered the floor as Robb cut through Lame Lothar Frey, slicing cleanly through his neck. The body fell with a thump to ground and Robb moved on, seeing Olyvar Frey come to fight next to him. Raynald Westerling was moving with Grey Wind, back to back with Dacey Mormont.

Greatjon yelled out and bit off an ear of an attacking Frey guardsman, blood spurting from the man’s head as the Greatjon grinned. Robb grimaced as he sliced through yet another Frey, glancing over to where Lord Walder Frey and Lord Roose Bolton were. Walder Frey’s eyes were wide with surprise, his body trembling.

Lord Roose Bolton wasn’t even moving, his grey eyes gone narrow as he tried to inch out of the fight and away. Robb let out a near growl, his fingers turning into claws around Ice and his heart beating so fast. Grey Wind howled again and ran towards the dais, taking a running leap over a few dead Frey men and landing on Roose. Robb heard Lord Bolton let out a loud scream as Grey Wind’s force pushed the man down and then Bolton went silent as Grey Wind tore out his throat.

“Greatjon! Go rally the men outside!”

“Aye!”

Robb saw Harry cast more spells of a sickly green color, one towards Ser Ryman Frey who was just advancing on Dacey. The man fell with a loud thud to the floor, his eyes already blank in death. Robb advanced towards Lord Walder Frey, holding out Ice, with Dacey and Raynald right behind him. Harry and Greatjon both ran outside to rally the remaining northerners outside.  

“My lord,” Robb spoke, touching the point of Ice to Lord Frey’s throat. “You have committed treason against your liege lord and your king. Yield.”

“You are no liege lord of mine and nor is that joke of a Tully,” Walder retorted, spitting out at him. “You northerners are savage.”

“Yield.” Robb stared at Lord Walder Frey, the smaller man glaring at him.

“The wolves have come,” Dacey remarked, holding her axe up and ready to fight again. “Yield, my lord.”

“And one bear,” Raynald whispered, his green eyes narrowed but occasionally glancing to Dacey with awe in his eyes.

Dacey grinned, brushing some blood off of her face.

Lord Walder Frey shook his head. “I will never yield to a Stark or a Tully.”

“Very well. Dacey, fetch me a block.”

 

* * *

  


Outside, Harry ran with the Greatjon as they rallied the rest of the northern troops. Most had gotten very drunk but put up a little fight. As soon as they heard that their king was still alive and well, their spirits grew and they fought back with more vigour than before.

Harry helped with the mopup, taking Freys prisoner and aiding the injured. He was working on a man from House Cerwyn, a house of the North, when the doors of the castle were opened again. Robb Stark came out, with his remaining guards, and Grey Wind. All of them had their swords and other weapons out, pointed at Lord Walder Frey as they marched him out of the castle and over to an area clear of bodies.

Everyone had blood on their faces, in their hair and on their clothes. But they were alive.

Dacey Mormont had a block of wood in her arms and Robb had a grim frown on his face. Harry sighed at the image, knowing this was necessary. He assumed that Lord Bolton was already dead and wished him good riddance. He turned to stop the man’s bleeding and then glanced back up, his wand slipping into his hands.

“I forgot…” Harry trailed off, whispering the patronus charm under his breath. White mist flew from his wand and transformed into a… “Not what I expected.”

A beautiful, blue, transparent direwolf sat before him and howled. Grey Wind joined in to the eerie music and Harry grinned, knowing what this meant. His patronus had changed.  

The wolf before him glanced at him expectantly, waiting for a message.

“Sansa, everything went well. Your brother’s still alive and so is your uncle. I suspect he’s having a swell time with the bedding. See you soon.”

The direwolf patronus loped away, blurring a bit in his vision before disappearing.

  


* * *

 

 

Sansa stood on the walls of Riverrun, watching the stars in the sky blink down at her. The moon was large and bright tonight, the wind bringing with it a cold chill. The white raven that announced autumn had come months ago to Riverrun, signaling that autumn was here. Summer was over, the longest summer in living memory. Her brothers and sister and herself were all summer children, born in summer. Lady was at her feet, sitting on her haunches and scenting the air.

Tully guards patrolled the walls around her, nodding to her in passing.

An eerie howl broke the silence and Sansa’s eyes widened as a ghostly blue direwolf loped over towards her from the north. Lady whined a little in confusion, her ears perking up as the wolf came over towards them and sat down. The ghost opened its’ mouth and out came a male, human voice, familiar.

She let out a deep sigh of relief at Harry’s words, remembering him describe this spell. Robb was safe. Lord Walder Frey and Lord Bolton were dead. At his words about Edmure, she felt her cheeks redden, her lips twitching up into a small grin.

The ghostly direwolf vanished as soon as it was done and Sansa looked towards the north again, looking towards home. She was done with the south, done with the Iron Throne and done with the Lannisters. She just wanted to see Winterfell again and the north.


	11. Chapter 11

Tyrion Lannister glanced down at the raven that had just come in, to the piece of parchment that was in his hands. His nose wrinkled, irritating his scar, and glanced back up at Bronn and Podrick. Joffrey’s wedding to the Lady Margaery was due to take place tomorrow and here was this piece of news.

“What?” Bronn questioned, taking another bite of food from the table. Lannister guards stood at the door as the three men talked, silent and watchful.

“There was a massacre at the Twins,” Tyrion remarked, reaching down to his mug of ale and taking a sip. It was still early in the afternoon but he would need liquid courage to deliver this news to his father and Cersei. The King wouldn’t be happy about this either. “Lord Walder Frey and Lord Roose Bolton are dead. The Freys apparently tried to assassinate the King in the North. They broke guest right to do it and failed.”

Bronn raised an eyebrow. “Your nephew won’t like that.”

“No one will like it, Bronn. Why do I always have to be the messenger?”

“Because you’re the responsible one in the family?” Bronn asked.

Tyrion snorted. “Joffrey will not like this. Cersei will not like this. My father will not like this.”

“At least your brother’s back.”

Tyrion dipped his head in agreement. “Aye, he is. I’m glad of it. Qyburn is looking at his hand right now.”

“Does it say something about the man we saw rescuing the Lady Sansa?” Podrick finally asked, looking between the two men.

“The letter just says that the King in the North is heading back north,” Tyrion replied, shrugging. “And so are his men. The Frey-Tully wedding happened still so Lord Edmure now has a wife. It says that the Tully men are staying to pick a new lord of the Twins.”

“You could go ask Varys. He probably has more information,” Bronn said, his eyes narrowing in thought. “If you’re interested in more information.”

“My father probably would have made me wed Lady Sansa. I am glad her family is safe now,” Tyrion admitted, sighing at the thought. “I wonder who they’ll pick to be the Lord of the Twins.”

“There’s so many of those fucking Freys,” Bronn said, shaking his head and grimacing. “I wouldn’t sweat it.”

  


* * *

 

 

As Tyrion headed to Varys’ quarters, he ran into his father, the Lord of Casterly Rock. Tywin did not look happy, his eyes tight with anger and his shoulders curled inward under the lion cloak. He stopped when he saw Tyrion heading in the same direction, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Father. I suppose you have heard about what happened at the Twins,” Tyrion started, dropping his hands into his pockets and seeing Pod out of the corner of his eyes.

“Not once have my plans gone awry,” Tywin remarked easily, the steel under his voice unnerving even now. “I should not have relied on the Freys and the Westerlings to do the job.”

Tyrion’s eyes widened, thinking on the letter that they had received months before. The letter that said that Robb Stark had broken his agreement with the Freys by wedding Jeyne Westerling. And the Freys… “You arranged this. All of this.”

“The Starks are all as honorable as the dearly loved Ned,” Tywin said, looking to the courtyard beyond them. “The Young Wolf behaved just as I wanted him to.”

Tyrion stared at his father. “You wanted to wipe out another family.”

“They kidnapped you, Tyrion. I won’t have that as an insult to our family.”

“I’m not part of your family!” Tyrion yelled, his fingers clenching into fists. “You call me dwarf, Imp and never son!”

“Which Lannister had you in mind to wed the Westerling heir?” Tyrion questioned as soon as his heart slowed from pounding. “They had to have an agreement with you to that degree.”

“The daughter of Gerion,” Tywin answered, lifting his shoulders in a minute shrug.

“Joy? She’s a bastard.”

“Exactly.”

  


* * *

 

 

Harry looked to where Robb was, the King in the North standing before the dais of the great hall at the Twins. Grey Wind was at the king’s side, curled up and chewing on a bone. Robb and Edmure were both looking down at the young girl who had been found a day ago, the granddaughter of Ser Stevron Frey, the first son of Walder Frey. Lady Walda Frey was ten years old and the new Lady of the Twins, her medium length brown hair pulled up in a bun and her blue eyes wide with fear.

“My lady, will you be loyal to your liege lord?” Lord Edmure questioned, his eyes narrowed as he spoke. There was a thin veneer of anger behind his words, the knowledge of the almost betrayal of Houses Tully and Stark fresh in his mind.

Harry had been in the room when Robb had explained to his uncle less than a week ago. Edmure had not been happy but he hadn’t been angry at Robb for not telling him.

Lady Walda Frey bowed her head, kneeling before the King in the North and the Lord Paramount of the Trident. “I will, my lord. House Frey is yours.”

Her voice quivered with fear and the older men and women surrounding her all kneeled too, worried what would happen should they not submit. The execution of Lord Walder Frey had been a week ago and then the cleanup had begun, the Stark and Tully men working together to catch any remaining Karstark, Frey and Bolton guardsmen.

Harry had worked in tandem with Dacey Mormont and the Smalljon to see to any remaining injured. The dead had been piled together, Freys in one pile and northerners in another. There had been one young man, a Stark guard, who had been gutted and thrown in the river. Another had been younger than Harry and he had had to catch his breath and stomach before sicking up.

Raynald Westerling had stuck close to Robb but not before asking for the hand of Dacey. Everyone who had been in hearing distance had laughed when Raynald had come racing back out of Lady Maege’s tent, pale and shaken but triumphant. Dacey had leered at him and had thrown a bear fur cloak over Raynald’s shoulders, tugging him into her own tent.

“Edmure, I shall like to take my forces back home,” Robb said, drawing Harry’s attention back to the present. “Winterfell is calling me.”

“Aye. Should you need anything, just send a raven. My lady is already on her way to Riverrun and I shall send your mother, sisters, and wife north when you say it’s safe.”

Harry watched as Robb grasped Edmure’s arm, the northern way of shaking hands he supposed. A gesture of alliance and friendship.

“Harry?”

He took a few steps to stand in front of Robb and Edmure, seeing the Smalljon and his father, the Greatjon walk into the Great Hall. Ser Patrek Mallister was standing next to Edmure, having decided to stay until he wasn’t need anymore. Seagard was just a few miles south of the Twins but Harry had seen that Patrek and Edmure were good friends, with Patrek having brought Edmure to the bedding the night of the wedding.

“Yes?”

“What are your plans?” Robb questioned.

“I had thought I would go with you and help retake the North,” Harry offered, crossing his arms. “The ironborn still have most of it, don’t they?”

“Aye, they do. They have Moat Cailin, Deepwood Motte, Torrhen’s Square, and the Stony Shore. We will have to take the Dreadfort too. I have also sent word to Lord Howland about retaking Moat Cailin. They will guide us through the swamp to the castle from the north.”

“I went through Lord Bolton’s belongings,” Harry commented, his eyes narrowing at the reminder. “If you retake the Dreadfort, assuming that’s the castle of the Boltons, you’ll need to kill Ramsey Snow.”

Robb blinked. “What did you find?”

“Ramsey was the one who burned Winterfell and killed the two smith’s boys,” Harry explained. “And Roose didn’t say a word otherwise, in fact, I think he encouraged his bastard son in taking Winterfell. Or it was all Ramsey’s doing. Altogether, Ramsey needs to die.”

“I had been planning on making you Lord of Moat Cailin,” Robb finally spoke a minute later. “Mayhaps you would be better as the Lord of the Dreadfort.”

Harry blinked and stared at Robb, his mouth opening and then closing. “I’m not a Bolton.”

“It would be a new house,” Robb offered, grinning a little. “Roose did not have any other children and had not yet remarried.”

“Lord Bolton was due to marry my cousin,” Lady Walda interrupted quietly. “Fat Walda.”

Robb and Harry turned to look at her before turning to each other again.

“I know you have fallen in love with my sister too,” Robb continued, smiling widely now. “You have my blessing.”

Harry grinned, his heart skipping a beat at the words. “I can go tell Sansa now.”

“Let me and Winterfell’s maester know when you have decided on a House name and banner,” Robb remarked. “We can have your wedding when we retake Winterfell, in the godswood.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Harry murmured, already withdrawing his wand and whispering the words to apparate. “I’ll be back to join you for the retaking of the North.”

 

* * *

 

 

A crack sounded in the quiet godswood of Riverrun and Sansa turned around immediately, her lips moving up into a grin as Harry appeared. He looked good, _safe and alive_ and excited. His hair was wild, not so much framing his face, as not and his green eyes were glowing. He wore a black tunic and grey leggings, a cloak fitting around his shoulders.

Lady let out an eager bark at the sight and loped towards the wizard.

“Harry!”

She closed the distance between them within three steps and he swept her up into his arms, holding her tight as their lips met. Sansa trembled, opening her mouth up to his tongue. Warmth spread throughout her body and she could feel every part of Harry's body, as close as they were.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lowered her to the ground, a big smile on his face. “I am glad you are safe.”

“It was your suggestion,” Harry whispered, curling his arms around her waist. “To go early anyway. I became a Frey for a short while.”

Sansa blinked at his words. “You were a spy.”

“Hmm. Yes, I was. Moody would have been proud of me.”

Sansa’s lips twitched up into a grin. “Lord Varys is nothing compared to you. What of Robb?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I haven’t met the man but I do not plan on becoming a spy full time, thank you. It was exhausting. Robb’s fine and is planning on retaking the north, starting tomorrow. Your uncle is fine as well and the new Lady of Riverrun is on the way here now. As for me… Robb made me Lord of the Dreadfort.”

She stared at him. “Lord of the Dreadfort?”

“Roose Bolton is dead and Ramsey Snow is not long for this world,” Harry explained. “Ramsey is the one who actually burned Winterfell and killed the two smallfolk boys.”

Sansa wrinkled her nose at the thought, memories of King’s Landing floating through her mind. “Cersei would be proud of the Freys and the Boltons. Ramsey probably was encouraged to take Winterfell by his father.”

“You are not Cersei,” Harry whispered, staring at her before sighing. He reached out his hand, placing it lightly on her chest. “You are a Stark. Lady Sansa Stark, daughter of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark. You have a gentle heart, Sansa. I am quite sure that your father is very proud of you.”

Sansa placed her own hand over Harry’s, entwining their fingers. “Thanks.”

“Anytime. And… one other thing.”

Sansa watched as Harry grinned even wider.

“Robb gave us his blessing,” Harry murmured, his eyes going soft and heated.

She grinned and leaned closer towards him, dropping her head on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Harry whispered, even as Lady curled around the two of them and howled, excited and eager. “My father had a thing for redheads too. It seems I inherited it.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and elbowed him. Harry laughed and kissed her again, pressing his lips to hers briefly before pulling away.

“I’m proud of you, Sansa,” Harry said, catching her eyes with his.

Tears pooled in her eyes and she smiled, enjoying being held in his arms once again.


	12. Chapter 12

“Sansa, I have no idea about a house name,” Harry muttered as he paced about in the great hall of Riverrun. He had spent the night in his guest room at the castle and was only breaking their fast with them before leaving. He was due to apparate back to the Twins to aid Robb in the next hour and with an answer as to what his house was going to be called. “Potter is taken, you said?”

“It is. Maester Vyman said it was in the crownlands,” Sansa remarked, following him with her eyes. Queen Jeyne Stark sat next to her, her eyes amused and her lips twitching up into a small grin. Three Stark guards stood behind them, with the rest having gone with Robb. Lady Catelyn was sitting on her other side, speaking with Lady Blackwood. “Mayhaps you have another house name that you would like? As for a sigil, I was thinking…”

Harry looked up at her, an expectant look on his face. “Yes?”

“For your former friend,” Sansa said quietly, her shoulders lifting in a minute shrug. Lady was cleaning herself under the table, growing even more to the point that Sansa wouldn’t be able to hide her under it for very long. “Hedwig?”

Harry blinked and then his eyes lit up, half fondness and half grief. “Yes, that’s… That’s a good idea. Perhaps a snowy owl mantling on… a background of blue?”

“Blue?” Sansa echoed.

“Blue for your eyes,” Harry offered, grinning as Sansa’s cheeks reddened in pleasure. “And the snowy owl works well too, for the white would be a tribute to House Stark, seeing as the grey direwolf is running on a white field.”

Arya giggled as she ran into the hall, Nymeria following her, and Sandor Clegane on her heels. He was holding two wooden swords in his arms and his eyes said that he wanted no one to talk to him. The serving men and women who were still in the hall all hid their smiles at the youngest Stark girl, some placing more food on the table for her.

“I need a better teacher,” Arya grumbled, looking towards Lady Catelyn with a gaze that said she was expecting to be disappointed. “I wanted to join Robb for the fight to retake our home.”

“Arya!” Catelyn gasped, her eyes widening. 

“Gendry went with Robb!,” Arya said, shrugging and looking to Harry. “I escaped from Harrenhal, mother.”

“Don’t look at me,” Harry retorted, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know how to fight with a sword. I fight with magic.”

“Did… did Ned find you one in King’s Landing?” Catelyn questioned, taking a deep breath on faint words. “A teacher?”

Arya nodded. “Syrio Forel, one of the Braavosi water dancers. Perhaps you could send for Jaqen H’ghar? I met him in Harrenhal and he… helped us escape.”

“Jaqen H’ghar?” Catelyn repeated, her voice worn but gaining life as she realized that her two daughters were alive and healthy. 

“He said he was from Essos,” Arya replied, rocking on the balls of her feet as she slid onto the bench at the table. 

“I could… look into it,” Harry offered. “I was going to go to Harrenhal anyway and a few other riverlands castles to check if there are northern prisoners of war.”

“How are you going to travel?” Sansa asked, taking a bite of food from her plate. She saw Harry turn to look at her with speculation in his eyes, a thoughtful glance here and there. 

“Flying. I can only… apparate somewhere if I’ve been there before,” Harry explained. 

Sansa grinned at his eager look and Harry matched her smile.

“I shall also keep an eye out for the Mountain,” Harry added, grimacing and standing up after he finished eating. “I told Robb I would.”

“Thank you again, Harry,” Jeyne broke in, one of her newly made friends from House Blackwood coming in with a small crown for her. Bethany Blackwood would be going north with Jeyne as one of her ladies in waiting, along with one of the Manderly girls once the ironborn were out. “You’ve done so much for our family.”

Sansa stood up too and came around the table, stopping next to Harry. He held out his arm and she laid her own arm in his, letting her escort him out. They stayed quiet while they walked out of the hall, with only Lady for company as they went. Harry stopped in the entry room and turned to look at Sansa, raising an eyebrow.

“My lady.”

Sansa grinned a little and then sighed, frowning in thought. “I want to know what’s happening in King’s Landing.”

“I thought it was something like that. I have the same hunch that I ought to go see the city. I’ll swing by after making sure the riverlands are once again safe from the Lannisters,” Harry said, glancing out of the great door and out into the courtyard of Riverrun. “Lady Roslin is supposed to arrive here sometime within the next few days, the new Lady of Riverrun.”

“Are you sure she is…”

“She’s fine. They forced her to go through with it… and I think your uncle is quite smitten with her and she with him,” Harry remarked, running a hand through his hair and then dropping it to stroke Lady’s head. The she-wolf leaned into his fingers, rumbling low in her throat. “Peverell. House Peverell of the Dreadfort.”

“Peverell?”

“It was the name of one of my great ancestors on my father’s side,” Harry explained. “If Potter’s taken…”

Sansa nodded and then leaned into him, letting him wrap his arms around her tightly. “You just don’t want to be a lord.”

Harry snorted, pulling back a little and glaring at her in amusement. “Excuse you.”

“You said it yourself. You just wanted to be left alone.”

“And now I’m going to be stuck with you,” Harry whispered, his lips twitching up into a soft smile.

Sansa grinned and reached out, meeting Harry in the middle of a kiss. Heat gathered in her belly as Harry deepened the kiss, pulling them into a corner of the hall and muttering something under his breath. Energy flowed around them, like a cool breeze where there was none before. She moaned as Harry licked his way into her mouth, his hands moving up and down her tunic, drawing shivers from her. Goose pimples popped up on her skin, Harry’s arms wrapping about her and lifting her up, her back meeting the stone wall behind her.  

She inhaled sharply as Harry looked at her, searching for something. “Do you want this?”

“We…” Sansa inhaled, squeezing her legs together as wetness trickled down her inner thighs. “We can’t… Not until our wedding.”

“There are other ways to bring you release,” Harry whispered, grinning a little. “Where I come from, people didn’t have to wait until their weddings.”

She could feel Harry’s cock harden underneath her, making her shiver at the thought. And it wasn’t a completely negative thought. “I…”

“We don’t have to, Sansa.” Harry slowly lowered her back down, catching her eyes with his own and holding them. “We don’t have to at all.”

“Joffrey didn’t do anything to me,” Sansa whispered, her breath wobbly and shaking. 

“Except have you beaten on his word and had you witness the death of your father,” Harry murmured, reaching over to cup her cheek. “And force you to call your family traitors. I’m in awe of you.”

“You’re the one who died and brought Lady back,” Sansa said, leaning back into Harry’s chest. 

“I did one of those things by accident,” Harry retorted.

Sansa sighed and pulled back from him, knowing he had to go. “Be safe in King’s Landing.”

“I will. Robb and the northern lords should be leaving right about now,” Harry said, drawing his cloak in tighter. “I’ll check in with you each day.”

“What if… something happens and you don’t…”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll apparate back to Riverrun if I get into trouble.”

Sansa nodded, reaching for him and he returned the gesture, entwining their fingers. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

Harry first stopped in Maidenpool, a castle that was home to House Mooton, where he had learned had been hard hit. Maidenpool was not flying the banners of House Mooton when he arrived, hovering just right under a cloud in the sky above the castle. If he wasn’t mistaken, the banners that flew on the castle walls were of House Tarly. He had glanced at a book of all house banners and seats within the last week and he was pretty sure it was House Tarly, the red hunter on a green field. And Maester Vyman of Riverrun had helped him learn about the castles of the riverlands too, noting the various noble bannermen and the castles that were likely to be hardest hit by sell swords or Lannisters.

He looked the castle over, noting the guardsmen and the damage to the castle, and then circled down, coming to a stop in the courtyard of Maidenpool. The guards of House Tarly immediately ran over to him, baring steel against him. 

“Stop! Who are you?”

“I wish to talk with Lord Randyll Tarly,” Harry remarked, dismounting from his broom and resizing it so it would fit in his pocket. The guards around him all blinked and stared, their eyes widening. Perhaps word had spread of his contribution to the wedding at the Twins.

“You’re in no position to demand anything!”

Harry’s eyes narrowed as he palmed his wand in his pocket. “Right… Could you get him please, then?”

One of the men hurried off, running into the keep and off, hopefully to get Lord Tarly.

“Is Lord Mooton alive anyway?” Harry questioned, looking around at the castle to see if he could locate the dungeons. “House Tarly has no business being in the riverlands either. The Tyrells have no fight with any house in the riverlands, I should think.”

“The Tyrells and the rest of the Reach have sided with King Joffrey, after Renly died and Stannis lost.”

“Ah.”

“Well… tell your lord that Lord Tully wants you out of the riverlands by the end of the next month,” Harry said, watching as the same guardsman came out with an older, balding man. He wore a big greatsword at his hip that looked an awful lot like Ice and Harry supposed it was valyrian steel too. “Lord Tarly.”

“Who are you?” Lord Randyll Tarly questioned, raising an eyebrow towards him as he stopped outside of the ring of guards surrounding Harry.

“I am Harry Peverell and you have no business being in the riverlands. Your quarrel is not with House Mooton or with any house in the riverlands.”

“House Tully is attainted by the king,” Lord Tarly remarked. “Peverell? I have not heard of that house.”

“It’s a new house, soon to be replacing House Bolton of the Dreadfort. King Joffrey Baratheon? I’ve heard he is not a true Baratheon,” Harry responded idly, studying the older man and seeing the experienced, battle hardened general in Lord Tarly. 

“Indeed. I have heard of Lord Bolton’s demise,” Randyll said, his eyes narrowing as he studied Harry too. “I heard that northern king turned into a wolf during the wedding and killed him.”

“That is a rumor, one not based on truth. I heard your house, as well as most of the Reach, supported the Targaryens. Why are you supporting the Lannisters?”

Randyll Tarly’s eyes narrowed even more. “Lord Mace Tyrell is my liege lord. I do not question him.”

“Is Lord Mooton alive?”

“In the dungeons, yes.”

Harry crossed his arms, glancing to the back of the castle, to where the Bay of Crabs was. The bay led to the Trident, which was where a good portion of the war was fought before Harry had arrived in Westeros. 

“You’re a smart man,” Harry said after a minutes of silence. “You’ve heard some of what happened during the wedding at the Twins, regardless of whether or not they were rumors.”

“I heard you killed people with a flick of your hand,” Randyll Tarly offered, staring at him head on. “I heard that wolf of the king’s tore Lord Bolton’s throat out. I have also heard that there was a ghostly direwolf running through the riverlands that night, that the trees became alive and aided the northerners. In addition to the king changing into a wolf.”

“All but two of those is the truth,” Harry said, lifting his shoulders in a small shrug and glancing up into the sky. “It’s supposed to rain today, I think. Autumn is already here and the Stark’s words are eventually true. There are still three direwolves south of the Wall, winter is coming and fortune favors the brave. Ooh, those will House Peverell’s words. Fortune favors the brave.”

Randyll stared at him. Harry stared back, staying quiet.

“Though… come to think of it, spelling the trees. That would have been a good idea,” Harry added, pondering the idea. He didn’t know if the old gods would be happy with him spelling the weirwood or heart trees but the regular ones… “There are a lot of trees in the riverlands after all.”

He reached out a hand, making the wand movements for the patronus charm and watched as the ghostly direwolf poured as mist out of his wand. It sprang to the ground, fully formed and howled, causing the guardsmen to all take a step back in surprise. 

“Captain.”

“We are leaving Maidenpool on the morrow,” Randyll ordered. “See to it.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Harry dipped his head in a nod and asked for directions to the cells.


	13. Chapter 13

It took Harry a day to reach King’s Landing from Maidenpool, flying just right underneath the clouds so people would hopefully look up and just think he was a bird. The city looked vastly different now than when he had rescued Sansa, no besieging force outside of it and no blockade of the bay beyond it. It had been six months since he had rescued Sansa and a year since he had arrived in Westeros. 

The last thing that Riverrun had heard from the capital was that King Joffrey was supposed to wed Lady Margaery Tyrell soon. That raven had arrived to the river castle a week ago so he figured that the wedding was due to take place soon, if not already happened. From what Sansa had told him of Cersei and Joffrey, the Lannisters were probably making the match to receive ties with the Tyrell family and not for love. 

The sun had gone down hours ago and his stomach rumbled so he flew over the city until he located an inn, setting down behind it and throwing his cloak over his head. He didn’t particularly want to be recognized here, in the city of Lannisters and spies and the immature, dangerous boy king. 

He miniaturized his broom and tucked it into a pocket before walking out from between buildings. There were many people walking in the street, from men who looked to be sellswords, the Westerosi equivalent of mercenaries, to prostitutes. Some tried to catch his eye but he shrugged them off, heading right into the inn, looking around at the various customers and guests.

There were many guardsmen wearing Lannister cloaks, the gold lion rearing on red. Harry sighed and went up to the owner and paid for a night and dinner before heading over to a unoccupied table. The inn he had picked wasn’t in a very good spot in the city so it wasn’t overly crowded but he could hear plenty. The wedding was about to take place the next day and all of the inns were full, filled with lords from the crownlands and the Reach. And there were even some lords and ladies from Dorne, the one place in Westeros that Harry really wanted to see.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning he set out for the Red Keep, keeping an eye out for Lannister anything. People were excited and milling about towards the Red Keep for the feast so he fell into step with some of the common folk, blending in and joining in the walk. The day had started out beautiful, with not a cloud in sight and no breeze to hinder the tents that had been set up.

As they reached the Red Keep, people turned about and headed towards the big amphitheater outside. There were so many banners with house sigils on them that Harry couldn’t tell which banner belonged to which person but he spotted Martell colors and sped up to walk a few feet behind the man and woman. 

Music trailed out from where the feast was happening and a great table was set up at the opposite end of the open air theater, with King Joffrey Baratheon and Queen Margaery Tyrell at the center. Their relatives sat on the sides, the Queen Mother Cersei Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Loras Tyrell, Mace Tyrell, Olenna Tyrell and various other Tyrells and Lannisters. 

People were laughing and smiling, joking and talking in hushed tones about the war. Harry watched as the Dornish couple walked over to one table, pondered where he would sit, and headed over to introduce himself.

“Might I join your table?” Harry questioned, as he stopped in front of the couple who was clearly of House Martell. He just didn’t know who specifically he was talking to but he figured… If he could become friends with House Martell, the North would benefit greatly from it. Harry grinned at his thoughts, remembering the hat telling him he had the potential to join Slytherin house. And here he was… being political.

  
  


* * *

 

 

Oberyn Martell peered up at the young man who had stopped at their table, taking in the man’s appearance. The man didn’t have any house markers or sigils on him, such as a brooch or design on his clothing. The man had on a black cloak and a dark green tunic that matched his eyes. Oberyn’s gaze was next drawn to the scar on his forehead, the marking shaped like a lightning bolt. He glanced to Ellaria, who raised an eyebrow and shook her head. She didn’t know who he was either.

“You may. To whom are we addressing?” Oberyn questioned, sparing a brief glance to where King Joffrey sat. Queen Margaery looked happy, her eyes wide with delight, and smiling.

“Harry Po-Peverell. And you would be…”

“Prince Oberyn Martell and my lover, Ellaria Sand.”

Oberyn expected a grimace or a frown from the man but received nothing, just a polite grin. He noticed the slip in the man’s words when he spoke of his house name and pondered the various houses of the stormlands, riverlands and the north only to come up empty handed. He did not know of a House Peverell, at least not yet. 

“It is nice to meet you two. Then you’re the ruling Prince of Dorne’s brother? Why are you here? I figured...”

“He is Prince Doran’s brother,” Ellaria replied, smiling slightly. “Which region are you from? We do not recognize the name.”

Harry looked at them as he sat down next to Oberyn. “It is not an official house, not yet anyway.”

Oberyn’s eyes narrowed as he studied Harry. “Are you the one who aided the Northern king? The one they say can summon a ghostly wolf?”

“That would be me, yes.”

Oberyn’s eyes widened only a little, remembering what Tyrion had said to him two nights before. He took in the man again in new light, thinking of what he had heard of the Frey-Tully wedding at the Twins. Everyone had said that no Frey who was loyal to the Lannisters came out alive, that King Robb Stark turned into a wolf and tore Lord Roose Bolton’s heart out.

“Are you interested in a threesome?” Oberyn asked, smirking at the man.

Harry rolled his eyes, a hint of amusement in his them. “I’m taken already but thanks for the compliment. I’m just here to sight see.”

Ellaria let out a surprised laugh and elbowed Oberyn, who grinned.

“I hear that the only Bolton left is a bastard son,” Oberyn offered, shrugging and smiling at Ellaria. 

“You hear correctly.”

Loud guffaws broke through their conservation and the three of them turned to look at the clearing between the royal table and the rest of the tables. Dwarf jousters entered the clearing, riding on stuffed play horses, yelling lewd things about the Starks, Renly Baratheon and Stannis Baratheon. The dwarves each wore the colors of the houses that were being mocked, grey and white for House Stark and gold and black for House Baratheon. Harry knew Renly was dead but he hadn’t known what had happened to Stannis other than the man losing the Battle of the Blackwater.

Loras Tyrell, the young man who was brother to Lady Margaery, sat in silence as Renly Baratheon was mocked. And Harry winced as the dwarf jouster playing as a Stark came out and turned into a clothed wolf, with fake slobber and venom coming out of its mouth. It made him glad that Sansa wasn’t still in the city and his heart ached at the thought of it.

He wondered what connection Loras Tyrell had had to Renly and made a note to ask Sansa what she knew later.

Tyrion Lannister had gone pale, his eyes strained and narrowed.

“Why don’t you join them, uncle?” King Joffrey called out, turning to look at Tyrion with vicious glee in his eyes. “You’re just their size!”

Harry winced and peered back at Oberyn and Ellaria, seeing their strained looks, before catching Tyrion shaking his head. 

“I’m quite fine here, thank you, your Grace.”

Joffrey shook his head and walked over. “Join them.”

“No. I shan’t. You have servants of your own to do that.”

Harry watched as Joffrey proceeded to pour his wine over his uncle and then went to go sit back down.

“That is the king?” Harry whispered, turning to look at Oberyn. “He’s a monster.”

Oberyn caught his eyes before turning to watch the king.

A servant went to go refill the king’s wine glass and then returned to his post. The wedding cake was pulled out on wheels, a big, flowery thing that looked rather unappealing. 

“If this is what the kingdom has to look forward to…” Harry trailed off, flinching at the thought. He looked over at where the queen was sitting, remembering her in the throne room during the siege of King’s Landing. He spotted the various members of the kingsguard, the knights that wore the white cloak, standing around the king and his table. Harry saw who he thought to be Ser Jaime Lannister, the brother to Cersei and Tyrion, and a woman by his side. The woman was tall and intimidating, blond, and didn’t look much comfortable in court clothes. Harry caught the queen glaring at the woman more times during the next few minutes, like the woman had done something to offend Queen Cersei Lannister.

King Joffrey coughed once as some knight cut open the cake, coughed again as doves flew out of the big pastry. Harry and everyone else at the tables and around at the feast turned to watch as the king continued to cough, his skin going pale and his lips turning even redder. The coughs became more violent as time went on and King Joffrey’s knees buckled.

Everyone shouted in alarm and Cersei ran over to her dying son. Ser Jaime Lannister followed, looking down at the king in dismay.

Harry watched as the king died, a white ball of magic slowly rising out of the boy king’s chest. He reached into his magic, looking for the bit that stunk of death and pulled it to the fore of his mind, flicking into his sight and watched as Joffrey slowly but surely turned black in his vision. King Joffrey died fast and died in his mother’s arms, pointing towards Tyrion in his last moments.

 

* * *

  
  


Everything happened so fast after that, with Harry slipping away from the crowds and following Oberyn and Ellaria back to their inn. The bells began to ring not too long after, announcing the death of the king. 

He studied Oberyn, seeing his curled shoulders and narrowed eyes, and Ellaria, who kept looking at her lover in worry. Harry sighed and drew out a vial of liquid and held it out to her while Oberyn was looking elsewhere. Ellaria blinked, raising an eyebrow.

“The North will need Dorne and Dorne might need the North’s help too in the coming days, I think. With the death of a king… This is for you and Oberyn. Drink it for luck. You only need a drop or two at a time.”

 

* * *

  
  


He took off right after leaving Oberyn and Ellaria, slipping onto his broom and heading north to help Robb retake their castles from the ironborn.


End file.
